Mexico Forever
by Magali1
Summary: Jason puts together a little reunion of sorts. OT3 Fic. In-Progress. Angst/Friendship/Romance ensues. *Complete 4/4/2014*
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This came out of nowhere; it won't be a very long fic, but will be multichapter from each of the three's perspective. Enjoy :)

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**Prologue**

"What am I supposed to do?" Jason wondered, lying flat on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He lifted his neck a little, watching Erin go through her nightly ritual of putting all sorts of creams and powders on her face. He rolled his eyes. "Do you have to do that every single night? You're beautiful."

"Why do I think I'm still beautiful?" she chuckled, smearing some green stuff over her forehead. She shrugged her shoulders, dipping her fingers back into the tub of whatever it was, glancing over her shoulder at him. "You have a vacation."

"Forced vacation." At one of the worst possible times. It wasn't summer. It wasn't winter. It was that weird in-between time during football season, where they weren't signing players and they weren't poaching any either. Everyone was working through their season and the word hadn't started coming in on who was unhappy and wanted to leave their current representation or their team or whatever.

It was also the beginning of the school year, so he couldn't even spend time with Noah. He took him to school in the morning and picked him up in the afternoon. They went to dinner sometimes or tossed a football around in the park, but Erin was pretty strict with the schoolwork and so was he. Noah wasn't going to be going on any sort of long weekend or mini-vacations while he was off work. He sighed. "I'm bored, Erin."

"You could clean the house."

"I'm in a wheelchair."

"Funny how that always comes out when I ask you to do things around the house," she teased, getting out of the chair in front of her vanity dresser. She shook off the thick flannel robe she wore over her t-shirt and pink checked boxers, hanging it on a peg behind their bedroom door. "Well I don't know what to tell you babe, you have a week and a half, it's a reward, see it as that."

"I know, but I'm bored." He pushed himself up so his back was straight against the headboard. He glanced sideways as she crawled into bed beside him. He sighed, looking forward again. It was a good thing that the bosses were rewarding him with time off. He'd given most of his soul and a lot of time in the last five years to the firm. He was an associate agent, he had his own office, and he was respected. He'd gotten a lot of business for the firm and they loved him for it. Business meant money.

The thing was, he didn't know what to do with himself outside of his family or the firm. It was limbo. He sighed again, glancing at Erin. She was now rubbing lotion into her hands. "What are you thinking?" he asked softly. She wasn't finished; he knew she wasn't.

Erin shrugged, continuing to slowly massage the lotion into her hands. "Well," she drawled, swallowing hard. She drew her feet beneath the covers, tugging them to her waist. She dropped her hands in her lap, finally turning towards him. She shrugged again. She was nervous about what she was going to say; why, he wondered. "You know…it's been a long time since you went to Texas."

Texas. Damnit, how did I not see that one coming? He took a deep breath and held it. "Well," he drawled. He looked down at his hands. The right one had stretched out almost completely, while his left was still curled into a permanent fist. He sometimes felt like there was tingling in his toes sometimes; like right now, although he knew it was just phantom. "Well my parents live in Florida now and…and…" he began to stammer. He knew where she was going. He didn't want to go there. "And Coach Taylor is in Pennsylvania."

"And someone else is still in the same exact place he's always been."

No. Not that. He shrugged again, whispering. "We don't talk anymore Erin, you know that." His heart began to thud. Not for a lack of trying, because he had. He really had tried. Friendships faltered after high school, but some stayed strong for the rest of time. He always thought that's what theirs would be like, but it hadn't. It had succumbed to the reality of life that people moved on and what you thought was the most important thing as a teenager was not so much as an adult.

I tried though. I tried. He was the one that let it all fall. For whatever twisted reason, because he was sure there was one. He pushed his fingers into his fist, stretching out his fingers. Erin reached over and lightly touched his palm. He squeezed her wrist hard. "I know it'll be hard, but you should talk to him. It's been almost five years."

Five years since I left him, standing on the unfinished porch of his house, after my parents had moved out of Dillon and I'd gone to help them. He didn't like thinking about that. He'd stopped by the frame, to see his best friend because it had been almost three years since they'd talked, and he'd just gotten nowhere.

_"You really shouldn't live alone out here, you know," he said._

_The other man scowled down at him, holding a bottle of beer tight in his fist. He swallowed hard, shrugging his shoulders and gazing out over the horizon. "You should go. Back to your family. New York. And leave me alone."_

_Leave me alone. _

_Leave me alone._

So he'd left him alone. Done what he'd said. He sent him a Christmas card every year, with a photo of the family in it. Even sent him a card with the "We're Expecting!" on it when Erin and him had found out. It was pink, since they waited until they knew it was a girl. He reached his hand over and covered her stomach. It was hardly a swell on her waist; she kept fit, running after Noah mostly. He didn't even know how to call him. Or even if he should.

Texas, huh, he figured. He frowned slightly. "Mexico." It just popped into his head.

"Mexico?" Erin echoed. She shrugged, a dark red eyebrow lifting. "Well I guess, but I'd really prefer you go to Mexico with me. When I don't feel like a whale or we have an eight-year old to deal with. You want to go to Mexico?"

He didn't want to go. If I'm going to do this thing, which now was like a bug in his head that he couldn't shake, it couldn't be Texas. I have to get him out. He pursed his lips, rolling his eyes upwards towards Erin. She narrowed hers, waiting. "I have to do something. You might not like it."

If I go to Mexico. If I convince him…there has to be someone else. Erin chuckled. "What are you talking about? Mexico? I don't know if I like that as it is, but…if you want, go."

"It won't just be the two of us. Someone else will have to come." Convincing them is going to take everything in my power, but he knew it could be done. It was just a matter of how to go about it.

Erin reached over and turned off the light, plunging their room into darkness. She shifted, pounding her fist into her pillow and turned towards him, sighing. "Jason the only reason I'd be annoyed with you going somewhere is if you go with an ex-girlfriend or something." Jason closed his eyes tight. Yeah, well. He winced, trying not to smile when she opened one eye, staring at him. She finally sat up, glaring in the dim light coming from the streetlights outside their Brooklyn townhouse. "What?" she demanded. "Are you serious?"

"Well she's more a friend than an ex."

"Oh good Lord."

He smiled; it was your idea, I just have to see it through now. He looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was barely eleven at night. I'll call in the morning. Start setting this thing up. He looked back up at the ceiling; he couldn't sleep. There'd be no sleeping. His heart raced and he smiled. This was going to be interesting.


	2. Nashville Forever

**A/N:  **Posting a second update very quickly to put the fic into a tad bit more context. Or not. Thanks for the reviews I've already received and I hope people enjoy this!

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**2. Nashville Forever**

"You're going to have to keep off that foot for the next six weeks, okay?" Lyla drawled, glancing up from the iPad she was using to make notes in her patient's file. She met the college freshman's uninterested gaze, running her tongue over her teeth. "Do you want me to go ahead and call Vanderbilt University Police Department and report this fraternity hazing incident? Because I will. Keep off the leg and don't let me see you or any of your frat brothers in here again."

The kid grinned at her. "You're pretty hot."

She waited a moment, her smile still flirting on her lips. "And you're eighteen, drunk, and can't hold your liquor. None of those appeal to be hotshot, get going, I've got about thirty more pledge week idiots just like you."

"Yes ma'am."

Lyla rolled her eyes, watching him hobble out to join a couple of the buddies that actually decided to take him to the hospital after he broke his ankle dropping off a fence trying to climb into the dean's backyard. Or at least, that's what she'd picked up when she'd walked into the room to set his leg. She finished the notes on his chart, sending it off to her attending.

She stood up, glancing at her cell phone buzzing in the pocket of her long white lab coat. New York. "Damnit," she muttered. She sent it straight to voicemail, checking her iPad for her next assignment. She carried it to the administration desk, a large U-shaped terminal in the center of her wing of Vanderbilt University Medical Center's emergency room. "What's up Carol? Anything exciting in the pipe?"

"I got a kid who has a pencil in his eye, but Smithson already grabbed it," the chief nurse said, smiling up at her. She tapped the computer screen, Lyla's name popping up. She whistled. "You get…alcohol poisoning. Room five."

"Lovely," Lyla said. It was a constant rotation of similar ailments and injuries, working in an emergency room whose main clientele were undergraduate students. Pledge week was probably the busiest time for them. She was swamped with broken bones, constant alcohol intoxication, and other random injuries that varied from impalement to foreign body extraction.

She picked up her iPad, with the new patient already loaded into the program, checking the history and other information as she made her way to room five. Her phone went off again. She automatically sent it to voicemail. It wasn't because hse didn't want to talk to him, but she was busy. Plus, New York meant one person and quite frankly Jason Street didn't talk to his ex-girlfriend unless it was about a mutual friend.

A mutual friend who she had vowed to stay as far away from as she physically could. It was a promise she'd made herself after those three days in Texas. Those three wonderful, sad days. She didn't want to get drawn back in because it would be so simple to give up everything and just live with someone you loved, doing absolutely nothing but getting drunk on each other. That was teenager Lyla. Grown-up Lyla had a lot more going for her.

Then after that bad news her father shared with her, about two months later. _"Honey," Buddy said, his voice quiet over the phone. "I need you to sit down. Something bad's happened. I'm fine, everything's fine, but…but it's Tim. He's…he's going to jail." _

Somehow I knew something like that would happen to him. Tim had no regard for about anything. She never thought he was stupid. Gullible and always looking for an easy way out or into anything, but not stupid. Not break the law like that stupid, but he'd also stolen from a meth dealer. He'd stolen copper wire and sold it. Tim wasn't the most intelligent. She'd made the vow complete that day. Never again.

Lyla stepped into room five, but this time her hospital pager went off. She cleared her throat, smiling quickly at the patient currently retching her guts out over the side of the bed and the girl's friend, who seemed disgusted. You can choose your friends. "Excuse me," she said, turning back around and glancing at the pager. She picked up one of the phones scattered throughout the ER, dialing the nurse's desk. "This is Dr. Garrity."

"You have a phone call, a Jason Street from New York? He says it's very important."

"It's practically midnight."

"He says it's very important and you've been dodging his phone calls," Carol said. She cleared her throat. "Is he a boyfriend or something? I can shake him if you want. I'll say you went into surgery or something."

She rolled her eyes, smiling quickly. "No, he's…he's too smart for that. He knows I'm not in surgery." Plus he'll just call the surgery line number. She bit her lower lip again, closing her eyes tight. Jason was a dog with a bone. Stubborn. Determined. If he wanted to talk to her he would. Might as well get it over with. She pushed her fingers through her hair. "Tell him that I promise I will call him in fifteen minutes and if I don't, I will answer my phone when he calls me. Thanks Carol." Lyla hung up before she changed her mind.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, she returned the call, sitting in a supply closet for privacy. There was another patient waiting for her, but it would keep for at least ten minutes, which was the absolute maximum she was allowing herself to talk to him. She pressed her phone to her ear and let it ring.

Jason answered on the first ring. "It's about time you call me back," he said, his tone teasing. That was good, she figured. Meant no one was dead or dying. Maybe all he wanted was to catch up or something. Bit weird, but whatever.

"Are you okay?" she asked. She cleared her throat. "How's the spine?"

"Still broken. Nerves are kind of coming back, I told you I had that surgery a few years ago."

We're on to health, that's one topic down. She closed her eyes, her voice soft. "How's the weather in New York? I saw that there was a big rainstorm that just passed through."

He was quiet. Finally, he laughed. "Weather, Lyla? Really?"

Well what the hell else are we going to talk about? She rolled her eyes. "How's Noah and Erin? I got your card, that's wonderful, a little girl." Now her tone softened. Babies and family were relatively easy to talk about. That wasn't why he called. Definitely not why he called. Her voice dropped and she closed her eyes again. Pain seeped through her. "I can't do whatever you want me to do."

"How do you know I'm going to ask you to do something?"

"Because I can't. I have a job, I have a life." She bit her lower lip, finally opening her eyes. This was going to hurt. Her voice cracked. "And I don't care what's going on, I don't even care if he needs a kidney, I will not let Tim Riggins back into it again."

It went silent again. There were sounds of cars driving by in the background of Jason's phone. New York City, the town that never slept. It suited Jason. It was fast, he needed fast. Lots going on, a lot to keep him busy. Nashville was more her speed. A big town that seemed small. Art, culture, and yet it was still Southern. She didn't really want to go anywhere else after college. Medical schools everywhere had taken her, but she wanted to stay in Nashville.

Not Texas. I'm not going back to Texas, no matter what this is. Jason cleared his throat. "Lyla that's the thing…I really just want to catch up. I'm on forced vacation, but Erin's working and Noah's in school and I'm kind of going crazy. I thought maybe I'd go to Mexico. I rented a house on the beach there for a few days. I'm leaving tomorrow morning. I'd really like to see you and well…" He chuckled. "I talked to your dad and he said you need a vacation too. What do you say? Wanna' just catch up?"

She smirked. That was a nice little try. "Jason, I'm not going to Mexico. I have a job."

"Your dad said you're due for some vacation time."

Yes, she was due vacation time, but she was going to put it off. There was nowhere she wanted to go right now and she was a resident. It was best if she just honed her craft and all that. Get as much time as possible. She was gunning for Chief Resident next year. "Jason," she murmured, pushing her fingers to her temple. Blood throbbed against her skull. Tension headache. I need to relieve the tension. I need to end this call. "I'm not…no."

"Please? We haven't seen each other in forever, I thought it might be fun. Just the two of us…"

"Two?" Wait, what? Just the two of them? She scowled. "That's not like fifty-thousand different kinds of weird, since you're married and your wife is pregnant?"

"She's cool with it."

I highly doubt that. Lyla had met Erin a couple of times, back when she was still in Dillon and even then Erin had been wary of her. Most women would be if their boyfriends or baby daddies or whatever Jason had been at the time was best friends with an ex-girlfriend. Or fiancée, or whatever he'd told her about them. She took a deep breath. "Jason."

"Look, he won't be there. That's not why I called. I called because I'm sick and tired of seeing people I know who aren't friends with people they said they'd be best friends with. It's been years, Lyla. Remember all those times together? Remember all that talk about Texas Forever and all of us? Look, I can't help that he…that he went the way he went, but you and I? We don't have to let that happen." He took a deep breath, his voice dropping. "He's in his own world and I don't want that to happen to us. Can I please have at least one friend from my hometown? Please? You and I…we're better friends than anything else and I want to keep that. I don't want it to go away."

So a trip to Mexico is supposed to do that? She pushed at her forehead again. She sighed, closing her eyes once more. Thinking. Mexico. It was nice and warm in Mexico. Nashville was going through a cold snap. Pledge week was still days from being over…vacation time…oh geez. "Where in Mexico?" she mumbled. It would depend.

"It's called Ciduad Cruza. It's not on the map, but you have to fly into a little regional airport in Tampico or drive down from McAllen. Kind of an unknown place, one of my clients has a house he built there."

"Are you borrowing it?" she teased. That might be nice. Staying in an NFL player's house on a Mexican beach. Sun, sand, surf. Hell, she might just take him up on his offer if he said yes.

Jason chuckled. "Actually I am. It's really nice. Right on the beach. Gate, security, all that stuff. Come on Lyla."

Oh damnit, she thought. Her heart had already made the decision, now her mind had to follow. Shit. She scrubbed her face, her voice quiet. "Please tell me that he won't be there. Jason."

The pause took too long before he whispered. "He won't be there when you get there."

What did that mean? She didn't really think about it until after she'd accepted and hung up, getting the arrangements texted to her. Jason even said he'd pay for her plane ticket. Fine, she'd let him. He made enough money and this was his idea. She stood up, dusting her dark blue scrubs off. She exited the supply closet, walking to her Chief Resident's office to let him know that she was taking her vacation time a tad earlier than she'd planned, but she'd make up as much time as she needed to when she came back.

It wasn't until that evening when she was packing a bag, since her flight left tomorrow morning, did she realize what Jason said. _"He won't be there when you get there."_

Did that mean that he was planning to see Jason there? Maybe he'd staggered their visits so they weren't going to be there at the same time. She swallowed nervously, shoving a bathing suit into the bottom of her bag. Jason wouldn't lie to her. If he meant this for their friendship, then he'd respect her choices. It would make sense if he…if he'd try to reach out. The three of them had something special way back when. Mexico represented that.

She straightened up slightly, setting the bag on the floor by her door. When she was a freshman, she'd gotten way too tipsy in a game of truth or dare with her four roommates. One of them, who happened to be her current roommate, Liza, had giggled, drunkenly asking her if she'd ever had a threesome.

_"Yes," she laughed, tipping her vodka bottle to her lips. She wrinkled her nose. "Aw, empty, sad."_

_"Holy shit!" Liza screamed, pointing at her. "You're telling the truth! You seriously had a threesome!? You! You go to church every weekend!"_

_She laughed again, not realizing what she'd said. "Oh well you know, there wasn't sex. Well…not really."_

_"Oh my God," her other roommate, Madeline, giggled. "What are you even talking about?" _

_I don't even know what I'm talking about, she thought, waving her hand. "I was with two ex-boyfriends, one was in a wheelchair, I kissed them both, went back to my room and then later that night I kind of visited each one of them, but never all at once. It was just one stupid drunken thing. There was no sex." There was just…a weird emotional connection with the both of them. They'd never spoken about it again and the next morning on the drive back to Texas she'd been exhausted, physically and emotionally and she'd kind of made her decision after that. _

_She closed the door on one of them and she left the door open for the other. She waved her hand not wanting to talk anymore. "So I have a dare for Liza, unless she's too drunk to do it." _

They'd never brought it up again and neither had she. She picked up another bag, setting her iPad in it, along with a couple of charger cords. It wouldn't be a big deal. Jason was married, she wasn't interested. They'd just have a few drinks, share some memories, and she'd spend a few days lying on the beach. Recharge. She needed it.

Lyla picked up her Bible from the nightstand, flicking it open to where she'd left off. She sought it out when she needed…comfort, she supposed. The last time she'd opened it up was a few months ago. She'd heard from her dad that…that well, he was back with an ex. She took a deep breath, shaking her head. "I was so stupid," she mumbled. It shouldn't have mattered. It frustrated her to no end that it still bothered her sometimes when she found out about his life.

She set the worn Bible in her bag, closed it and then waited a moment. "No," she said, vowing. She wouldn't need it. She wouldn't let herself think to a point or get to a point where she'd need it. She took it out and put it back in her nightstand, tapping the drawer as she shut it. "Nope. This is vacation, this is seeing Jason, and that's it. Nothing more, nothing less, and you won't need guidance or help or comfort, because this has nothing to do with…with him."

Because she couldn't stop herself, she opened up the nightstand again and took out another book. She didn't know why she kept the photo in _Gone With the Wind_. It wasn't like she read the book all the time. Once a year. It was one of her yearly reread books, along with _Little Women_ and _The Secret Garden_. She flicked it open to the middle, the chapter after Scarlett finally married Rhett. The photo was worn at the edges. "Damnit," she whispered, holding up the photo.

The three of them were in a bar, Jason with his little panama hat and her in her white ruffled sundress. Pure and demure. Then there was him. Sitting beside her, their shoulders touching. Holding a beer, with about ten already sitting on the table in front of them. That dark look in his eyes, while Jason seemed happy to just be alive, which he was. And her. Smiling at the camera, the perfect little angel and churchgoing girl. Except her hand. It was sitting on the inside of his thigh.

Lyla shoved the photo into the book, slamming the cover shut. It was in her head already. The thoughts. The wonderings. Breaking her pact. Again. Damnit Jason. She couldn't contain the feelings anymore, letting out a scream and threw shut the drawer, the nightstand rattling from the force. She screamed again. "Fuck!"


	3. On the Road Forever

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the reviews :) Enjoy!

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**3. On the Road Forever**

This was a terrible idea.

Tim passed a fifty to the Mexico border crossing guard at McAllen, to ignore the several bottles of prescription medications he had that the guy was eyeing, along with the several cases of beer. Guy's gotta' pack you know, he thought, flashing a quick smile at the guard's slightly confused look at all the beer. "Un hombre necisita la cerveza, no?" he asked, still smiling. It came as a shock to some people, but he was relatively fluent in Spanish. Learned it in jail, because what else was he going to do. Picked it up since most of the people he worked with for the county were Mexican too.

The guard chuckled. "La cerveza, yeah." He passed over the passport, but kept the fifty, gesturing that he could pass through.

"Gracias," Tim drawled, hitting the accelerator and pulling out of the line and back onto the highway. He shoved his sunglasses back on and threw the passport back onto the seat beside him. That wasn't too difficult. It wasn't even considered breaking the law, because well, it was just how you got into Mexico with things that normally would draw questions.

I'm living like the locals, not breaking the law, he rationalized to himself; he always rationalized things away, he'd gotten pretty good at it in the last few years. He took a deep breath, driving along, with the windows down. It allowed the relatively cool breeze to blow through the cab of the truck; he'd chosen his beat-up black one for this trip.

Nostalgia, memories, whatever you wanted to call it, that could be one reason, but the real reason he'd chosen his old gal was because he didn't want to bring his fancy new F-150 on a road trip so soon after getting it. He'd paid all cash and he rarely drove it. It was the nicest thing he owned. It was his…it was stupid to be proud of a damn truck, but he kind of was proud of it.

He shifted in his seat, his throat constricting a little. "This is stupid," he mumbled. This was a big mistake, coming all this way. "I shouldn't have come." I shouldn't have even answered my damn phone, but he had. He'd answered it, even though the caller ID said "New York Call" and he only knew one person in New York.

_"You're a hard guy to get hold of, I had to call like fifty people to get your number."_

_"You could have just called Coach, he always has my number."_

_An awkward silence followed. He cleared his throat. "Ah…yeah, I was kidding. I called Coach."_

_"What do you want?" Just get to the point so we can end this call. It had been years, done that way on purpose. He didn't want to prolong this anymore than he had to._

_"Mexico. Beach. Beer. You in or not?"_

_His attention perked up a little bit. Well that changed things. He narrowed his eyes, keeping his voice soft and even. "Just like that? Mexico, beach, and beer? No other reason?"_

_"No other reason. I want to see you, it's been forever. Don't let it be like this Tim. It's just a few days. In Mexico. With beer. Lots of it. Make sure you bring it. No other motive, I'm not going to change you or intervene or whatever. I just want to get drunk for a few days with my best friend. I'll text you the address."_

_"I haven't said yes."_

_"You will."_

And just like that his best friend had hung up the phone. Pretty blunt about things. Pretty sure of himself. He didn't explain why this had come up so suddenly. It was a take it or leave it thing, so he took it. Who was he to give up Mexico and beer? Especially if it was at some NFL player's house. On a beach.

There was something sitting between his shoulder blades; a steady pressure of nervousness. He'd never been a real nervous person. Just when he got into situations where he did not have the upper hand. Where he was the outsider and he didn't put himself in those positions for good reason. The past few years he'd become relatively anxious about things. That wasn't who he was and he hated it with every fiber of his being. He didn't know why. He didn't really care, just so long as he had a way to stop it and he did, it just made him feel really stupid and a bit like a freak.

This would be the first time in over five years that he'd seen Jason. He'd severed that relationship for good reason; Jason had respected that. If he didn't want to respect it right now, fine, whatever, but it sounded like it wasn't an intervention. It was Mexico. You didn't do any sort of intervention in Mexico of all places. He took a deep breath; you went to Mexico to get away from things, to blow off steam. He could get behind that.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something else was going on, something that Jason hadn't said. He shifted again. "Fuck," he cursed. Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it, he chanted in his head, to get rid of those feelings.

Think of something else. The problem was, another person crept into his thoughts that he didn't feel like thinking about. I don't owe anyone anything. I don't have a keeper, yet there was one person who sort of felt like she was his keeper.

_"Mexico!" Tyra shouted. She laughed on the other end of the phone. "Tim if I wasn't in D.C. right now I'd knock some sense in your head. You can't go to Mexico."_

_"You're not my girlfriend. You made that clear."_

_"Tim I'm not getting into that conversation with you. It's for me, it's for the best."_

_"For you." She was right though, he didn't want to get into it with her again. They'd had too many fights about it in the last ten years or so. He sighed. "I want you to know in case you try calling me that I'm not hanging from a beam in my barn or dead in a ditch, I'm in Mexico and my phone is going off when I crosst he border."_

_"Why don't you tell Billy?"_

_"He knows, but you'll call the cops or something to make sure I'm fine. I'm fine."_

_"Who will be there?"_

_"Jason."_

_Tyra waited a beat. She cleared her throat, her voice soft again. "And who else will be there?"_

_He waited a second. He knew what she was talking about, but didn't want to acknowledge it. Because he didn't want to think about it himself. It was just him and Jason. Jason wouldn't do that to him. "No one."_

_"You and Jason don't go anywhere without someone else, Tim. Where is she?"_

_"I don't fucking know or care. Saving babies from burning buildings, she's not an issue."_

_Tyra scoffed. "Just be careful. Call me if you need anything. Please."_

Yeah, whatever, he thought, shaking loose the memory. Tyra wasn't his sponsor, she wasn't his therapist, and he didn't need a babysitter. He was going to Mexico to see Jason and that was it. He'd cut off that contact for good reason but this didn't seem like anything Jason had been trying to do with him in the last few years. Sending him pictures of the family and babies and stuff. He didn't want a part of that life.

I'll ruin it, he thought briefly. He shook his head again and pushed his sunglasses up on the bridge of his nose. He kept driving, letting his mind go blank as the warm breeze whipped into the cab, tossing his relatively short hair now about his head. He slouched in the seat and draped his arm over the steering wheel. It was Mexico. Drinking and getting away.

I need a vacation; he was exhausted. There was a lot going on in his life, more than people thought at least, and he had vacation time coming. He took it and he wouldn't be back to that stupid job for the county for another two weeks. He hated it, but…fuck, it paid the bills. He was trying to be upstanding. It came and went depending on the seasons.

The drive continued for a few more hours and he finally pulled up in front of a large gated house on the beach. The driveway was winding and long, leading to the Spanish-style ranch house. He punched a button on the pad, but instead of going to an intercom like he thought, the gates just pushed open on their own. "Cool," he mumbled, slowly bringing the truck through.

It pulled up around a fountain and in front of a wraparound porch. There were two double doors that were already open and he smiled, in spite of himself, when Jason wheeled himself out between them like king of the mansion. "Master of the house," he said, greeting him as he climbed out of the truck. "Nice place."

"I'm a good agent, my clients like me. It's Deion Evans's house."

"He's playing like shit this season."

"Tell me about it, he's going to be looking for a new team next year, but until then…" Jason spread his arms out, grinning. "I get his house for a week." His smile fell a little and his arms dropped to the wheels of his chair. "Hey Timmy."

Timmy. No one calls me that anymore. He smiled, walking up the steps and reached down to Jason, giving him a hug. Jason waited a minute and then wrapped his arms around his shoulders, squeezing quickly. He let go, so it wasn't too awkward, and stepped back. "You look good." That was true. Jason looked really healthy. He smiled a little again. "New York's good to you."

"Yeah…hey look." He reached his right hand out and flexed it. He then grinned and looked down at his bottom right foot. What am I looking at your feet for, Tim wondered, his hands on his hips. "Watch." Very, very carefully Jason focused on his foot and then, just when Tim thought that it was like a trick or something, his big toe twitched.

Holy shit. He let out a huge breath he'd been holding, which came out as a laugh. "Holy shit!" He lifted his eyes to Jason's; his face was red and he looked exhausted from the effort of that tiny little twitch, but hell, it was a twitch. "That's fucking awesome Six."

"I've only been able to do it for a few months now. Should have seen Erin's face when I pulled it off, she about fainted." Jason laughed, gesturing for him to come into the house. "You bring the beer?"

"Of course. Got several cases. Some tequila."

"Naturally. Come on back."

They walked through the house, with its open floor plan and relatively sparse furniture. He admired the architecture; it was kind of a fantasy of his to design houses. He'd built his and he had an itch to build more. The problem was, people these days wanted you to have a bunch letters after your name like getting a degree meant you could build a better house. Not him. He built fine houses.

He stepped out of the back door and down the few steps, his feet instantly sinking into the white sand at the base of the steps. He still had on his boots, but was looking to trade them soon. He scanned the empty beach; it was just them. Nice. "Nice place," he murmured again. There was a pool to the side and the sand sloped down towards the beach.

"Yeah, he's got a few acres of this beachfront or something. It's just us anyway, this place isn't too populated."

Jason's voice had started to tumble a bit; why are you nervous Six, he wondered, frowning slightly. He turned slowly, about to ask him, when his question caught in his throat. Oh God.

No, no, no, no….

He stared, watching as she descended the steps. He slowly pushed up his sunglasses to his forehead, watching her. Her eyes were straight on his. She wore a one-piece teal bathing suit, with one of those filmy wraps around her waist. It had cutouts on the side, teasing her taut stomach. She wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself. Long dark hair flew across her face from the salty breeze. She smiled, nervous. "Hi."

Shit.

"Hi," he whispered. He cleared his throat, speaking a little louder. "How…how are you?"

"Fine."

"Good."

Jason sat in the chair between them, looking from her to him and then back again. He felt anger bubble in his throat, but tamped it down. Really Jason? You lied to me? What is this, some sort of matchmaking thing? He didn't say anything; he'd talk to him later, but not in front of her. She seemed to have the same thought, clearing her throat again. She gestured towards him. "You look good. I like your short hair."

"Yeah, well." He didn't know what to say to that. He gestured towards her. "You look good too." She looked great. Better than she ever had been.

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

This was not going to get any better. It had been years for them. Years for Jason and him and even longer for her and him. He hadn't spoken to her since she got on a bus. He never saw her on holidays; he stayed away from the bar and from Buddy when he thought she might be in town. It wasn't like he didn't think they'd be fine or anything he just…he just didn't want to be around her. It hurt too much and he hated that he couldn't push those feelings away.

He would have to get on Six about it later. Until then…he held his arms out. "Who wants a drink?"

Jason grinned. "It's about damn time."

Even Lyla smiled, her arms still tight around herself. "I could use a drink."

Just one, he thought, lifting his eyebrow slightly at her. She returned to look with an eyebrow lift of her own. Yeah, he thought so. Because right now, he didn't think one would ever be enough. And that was the problem. Because for them, it extended beyond just beer.

I hope the doors have locks, he thought, walking by them to the truck to get the beer.


	4. Pathetic Forever

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews :) Enjoy the story. (And this is chapter where we learn what Tim's prescription bottles are for and no, he's not addicted, not in this fic, at least). I'm also not going to be updating this more than once a day from here on out, mostly because I'm home sick right now and I can write faster so I can post another chapter, because well, why not? Enjoy!

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**4. Pathetic Forever**

"You bastard! I can't believe you lied to me!"

I had to do what I had to do, Jason thought, sitting upright in his chair, very still, and only his eyes darting back and forth as Lyla paced in her room. He neglected to mention to her that yeah, Riggins was coming, but that was for good reason. You had to do what you had to do to get what you wanted sometimes, he thought. He shrugged. "I technically didn't lie to you Lyla."

"You said he wasn't coming!"

He tried not to smile; this was why he was a sports agent negotiating contracts and she was a doctor patching up broken bones and gushing wounds. They were good at different things. Schematics, details, whatever. He technically didn't lie. He lifted his shoulders slightly. "Well…I think…" he narrowed his eyes, meeting her gaze once she stopped pacing to glare at him. "I think what I said…I said that he wasn't going to be here when you got here. You came here yesterday…he got here today."

That was a really fine line, but quite frankly he could give a shit. He needed them both here. They wouldn't come here on their own if they knew the other was going to be here. It was so high school that he could puke. But it wasn't high school; it was very, very adult and that was always their problem. They were too adult when they should have been kids.

He shrugged at her head shake; even she couldn't fight that one. "Maybe it was wrong, but face it Lyla, would you have come here if you'd known he'd be here?"

She shook her head, her voice soft. "No, Jason, I wouldn't. You don't know anything about us."

"How did it even end with you guys?" That always dumbfounded him. The last thing he knew, Tim was dropping out of college and Lyla was at Vanderbilt. He just assumed that they broke up because they were in two separate places. Would it be awkward, sure, but hell…he narrowed his eyes when he saw the torture crossing her face. "Oh."

Fuck, he should have known. He swallowed hard. Whoops, my bad. Lyla pushed her hands over her hair, dropping them to the back of her neck. "It was just…" She bit her lower lip, her face still twisted in pain. She looked over at him. "It was just so damn sad, Jason."

"He didn't propose to you or anything, did he?" he whispered. That would be just the sort of thing Riggins would do. Some massive gesture to get her to stay with him and…and oh shit, he thought, seeing her face. Oh my God, I was just guessing. His eyes widened. "He did?"

"No…" Lyla shook her head, closing her eyes. She dropped down onto the edge of her bed, the filmy white skirt she was wearing fluttering out like wings around her. She folded her hands in her lap, whispering. "No, he didn't propose but he…he asked me to stay. In Dillon. I couldn't and…and it was so damn sad…" She lifted her eyes to his again, her voice even. "To know that you're so in love with someone but you want two completely different things and there's only one choice. You have to hurt them. Where it hurts the most. Then you have to walk away and try never to think of it again. It's hard."

To break up, to end it all, yeah he thought. He kind of knew what that was like. "Kind of like us?" he asked. They were in two separate places. Two different stages in their lives.

"Sort of, but…but you walk away still hopelessly in love." She quirked her lip, her voice faltering. "And you and…and I…that was just…we didn't know what that love was. We thought it was bigger than us but it wasn't. It just was."

Yes. It just was. First love. Real love, but…but the kind that didn't extend beyond high school. It wasn't enough to keep them through their respective life changes. He always hated that about her and Tim. It wasn't like that for them. He swallowed hard. "Lyla, please don't go. I know you want to, but…but please. This isn't about you guys. This is about all of us. Three friends. Can we please just be that? Just for a few days."

I might be clinging to this with every last fiber of my being, maybe that's a bit pathetic, but I don't want it to go away. I have my family, I have my family and I love them, but that's not enough. Because you guys are part of that family and I have to keep it together. That was never his real role though, it was always Lyla that wanted him and Tim to be friends, that wanted to fix what had happened. It was always Tim that wanted to make sure his future was still going to go ahead and even to make sure Lyla had what she wanted.

We are really pathetic. Lyla tried to keep him and Tim together. Tim tried to make sure that he and Lyla got what they always wanted, even if it meant he got nothing. And me…well hell, Jason thought, I'm trying to keep the two of them from ripping each other's heads off. Or clothes.

He wasn't sure which one they wanted to do to each other more; it had been pretty tense. The minute Timmy drove up to the gate, he'd been waiting, and hit the button before Tim had a chance to turn the intercom on. He knew Lyla was upstairs changing, but he had counted on the way she'd entered the room, walking down the stairs like she was meeting Tim at an altar or something. He'd sat there, looking at both of them, and he never thought his heart was going to give out more.

Tim had been surprised, but his sunglasses were on, hiding his real emotions. He'd just kind of stood there and then rocked on heels. A perfect Tim response. Just laid back and calm on the outside, but inside he was probably freaking out. Then Lyla, who just froze, stunned. It wasn't like her to throw a total fit then and there, so he didn't expect that, but…they were so…polite. He hadn't expected that. And then he'd seen Tim's look and Lyla's. They were just staring at each other like they hadn't had water in years and there it was, right in front of them for the first time. Then Tim had gone to get his stuff, he said, and Lyla had stormed to her room.

I think I'm playing with fire, he thought. Especially after that look they'd shared out by the porch. I'm playing with fire and I am going to get burned. But that was the risk, he guessed. He looked over at her again. "You still love him?" he asked. He waited a second, but she said nothing, her face shielded from him as she looked out the window. "Don't answer that." He turned his chair around. "Just don't leave Lyla."

"I'm not saving him. If that's what this is. Some sort of intervention like the last time we were in Mexico," she said, scowling at him. She shrugged. "If he's involved in drug smuggling or whatever, I don't care. If he's high on pills all the time or drinking from sunup to sundown, I don't care. I don't care Jason! If that's what this is, I'm not helping."

"It's not, believe me." Although he hadn't been able to hide his surprise when he took Tim's backpack out of his truck and saw several vials of prescription medication. That was new. He'd seen only the label of one of them; Ambien. Sleep aid. Interesting. It's more of a…friendship intervention if you could call it that. He looked over at her again, his voice soft. "Lyla please. Just stay."

"Three days Jason. I'm staying three days."

That's fine. Three days is fine, just stay at least for one. He nodded, wheeling himself out of the room and down the hall to Tim's. He didn't knock and pushed himself inside, closing the door behind him. He winced at the look that Tim gave him; it was the look that defensive ends got when they tried to go after him after a snap. He always felt sorry for those guys because he knew the tackle coming was going to hurt.

"Dick move Six."

"Yeah, I know."

"You could have just told me."

"And you'd have come?" he demanded. That's what killed him about this. They were both mad at him because he didn't tell them that the other was coming, but if he had, up front and outright, there was no way he'd be able to get them to Mexico and damnit, he wanted them here in Mexico. "Because seriously Riggins? This is crap. She has reason to be mad, but you don't."

"Oh I don't have reason to get mad?" Tim demanded.

"You asked her to stay in Dillon, what did you think she was going to say!? It's Lyla! She did the right thing for her in that moment, she gets to do that for herself, you don't get to be mad at her for that!" Jason shouted. He sighed hard, glaring at Tim. "And as for the jail thing, because I'm sure she was pissed as hell about that, just like me."

Tim shot him a dark look. "Don't talk about that."

"Why not?"

"You don't get to talk about that." Tim walked away from him, grabbing a bottle of pills from his backpack. He shook out one into his trembling hand and tossed it back, swallowing it with a sip of beer. He held the bottle loosely in his fingertips, holding it out to the side, gesturing towards the wall between his room and Lyla's. "She leaving?"

"No. I convinced her to stay."

Tim sighed, taking another long drink of beer. He closed his eyes and slumped down onto a bench in front of the large stretch of windows looking out at the ocean. He pushed his hand through his hair and leaned forward, draping his arms over his knees. He sipped again. And again. You can't self-medicate the pain away, Jason thought, cocking his head. If that is what you're doing. "You know neither of you bothered to come see me. Or write. Or call."

"And would you have accepted any of those things from us if we had?" Let's get that out in the open right now Riggins.

It had the effect. Tim quirked his lip, shaking his head. "No, I guess not."

"Because you haven't taken my calls after either, so…didn't think you would while you were in the joint." Whatever twisted self-sacrificing move that was, Jason didn't know. It was crap though. All of it was total crap. The jail thing, the whole 'leave me alone' thing, and now this. He sighed hard. "We have as long as you want, Tim. I have two weeks. You can stay longer…but Lyla's gone after three days. So...can't we just…enjoy them for what they are? Please?"

Please, he thought again, watching the emotions cross Tim's face. It was like guilt and angst all rolled into one. He looked away, slightly defeated. I won, I know I won, but seriously, Jason thought. He smiled slightly when Tim lifted his head again and cleared his throat. It bobbed slightly and then he shrugged. "Well…let's get drunk then. That's what you said, right? Mexico, beach, and beer?"

Let's get drunk, he thought, taking his bottle of beer from where he'd set it on the dresser. He clinked it against Tim's. "Let's get drunk." He looked over his shoulder as Tim walked out of the room, his flip-flops making loud clacking sounds on the tiled floor.

He waited a second and then pushed himself towards the dresser, looking at the bottles lined up. Invasion of privacy, whatever. He turned one slightly. Ambien. Then there was the one he'd just taken. "Buspar," he murmured. He frowned. He only knew that one because Noah had to take it when he was little, for hyperactivity. It was an anti-anxiety medication. Not a strong one, but anti-anxiety nevertheless.

What the hell Tim, he thought, turning another bottle around. Prescription Ibuprofen. There was also a bottle of Vicodin, but he was pleased to see that it was for thirty pills, filled about three months ago and that there were still like twenty left. He swallowed hard, taking the last one and turning it around. It was for something called Prazosin. He made a note of it, turning around and freezing. "Damn," he mumbled. "Caught me."

"Snooping," Lyla said. She walked into the bedroom, gesturing with her thumb towards the hallway. Her voice was soft. "He's getting the tequila out. It's not even five."

"This is a drinking vacation Lyla."

She frowned slightly, walking over to the vials of drugs behind him. "You're reading his medications?" She picked one up, frowning. It was the one he'd just looked at. She shook her head and picked up another, her eyes widening. "Oh my God." She set them down and then picked up the Ambien. She looked down at him, still holding the vial clutched in her hand. Her voice was hard. "Did you know about this?"

Did I know about what? He frowned; she was scaring him. "What?" he murmured.

"These…" She sighed, holding up the prazosin. "This is a blood pressure medication…but…" She frowned again, shaking it and then looking down at the other one. "Damnit Tim."

What was wrong? He shrugged. "He drinks like a fiend, he's only twenty-eight, he probably has sky-high blood pressure. I'm surprised he hasn't had a heart attack by now."

"I'm surprised he's not dead!" Lyla shouted. She set the bottles down, pushing her fingers through her hair and folding them in front of her. Her voice dropped again. "Jason, it's not for blood pressure."

"How do you know?" The snooping had gone too far. He didn't want Tim to hear them and come in and find out they'd been reading his prescription bottles. They'd all be dead. He shook his head, turning his chair around. "Doesn't matter."

"It does matter. I'm a doctor, the prazosin with the Buspar and with the Ambien…Jason they prescribe it for another effect it has." She paused, but he kept going, until what she said next stopped him in the doorway. "It's for debilitating nightmares, sometimes for something called nightmare disorder. They don't give it to you if you have one bad dream a month, it's every single night and multiple times a night." She thrust the other bottle towards him, but he moved back like it was radioactive. "The Buspar is for generalized anxiety disorder, sometimes it's used to treat freaking ADHD. The Ambien…he can't sleep, which makes total sense because he's anxious and has nightmares. Vicodin and Ibuprofen, he hurt himself, most likely and that's just an 'in case' medicine, but Vicodin also makes you sleep, it's why people get hooked on it too."

That's really nice Lyla, but it doesn't matter. He won't need them anymore, because we're here. We'll make it better, he thought, pushing himself back down the hall. He heard her flip-flops behind him, running to catch up as he pushed himself into the living room space. "Lyla, don't," he warned. This isn't our business. Tim would tell them if he needed to tell them. Although it must have been bad, if he was actually taking medicine for his issues. The only time Jason ever knew Tim to take pills were when they played football and they got beat up a bit too hard and wanted more than the doctors decided to give them. Tim was off it as soon as he could be off them though. Besides, it didn't matter, he thought again. They were here to relax, to…to get to know each other again. Save their friendship. It wasn't an intervention.

She gripped his shoulder, stopping him. Keeping her hand on his shoulder, she turned, looking down at him and frowning. "He shouldn't be drinking with all that in his system."

"That's between him and his doctor." Who I doubted knew that Tim drank twice the average person's amount of beer on a daily basis. Although maybe he'd changed. Maybe he wasn't like that anymore. It had been years.

"Jason."

"Drop it Lyla."

She growled; he knew he'd pushed her hard if she was growling at him already, shouting with her teeth clenched together. It grated him when she did that. "Jason!"

"I told you," he said, whipping around. He wheeled so his toes were knocking into her shins. She stepped backwards and he pushed again, glaring up at her. "This isn't an intervention. You want to do that, that's your business. The biggest thing you have to worry about in three days is making sure you don't jump him."

Her hand pulled back; he fully expected a smack for that remark, but she clenched her fingers together, dropping it to her side. She smirked. "Touche." She walked around him and out onto the porch, grabbing a beer from the chest already sitting open beside the steps. Whew. That was close. He took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. His phone rang in the pouch beside his thigh. He reached into it and took it out, smiling at the text from Erin. _How is it going? Viva la Mexico! Have fun, love you __J _

I have a very understanding wife. But this…hell she would never understand it. He forced a smile, even if she wasn't in front of him and returned the next. _Things are great, we're having a blast catching up. I'll talk to you later, love you, Noah, and Baby. _

Having a blast catching up, what a lie. We'll be lucky if one of us isn't dead in three days. He turned around, pushing himself to the center of the wide open double doors, watching the two of them walking together in the sand. There were already three empty bottles of beer on the table. He sipped his and set it down on his knees, holding it in his right hand. He shook his head, watching them for a few more minutes. "I think it'll be me," he decided. He'd be the one dead. Because he was probably going to kill himself. He shook his head, sighing. Shit this would be a long three days.


	5. Promises Forever

**A/N:** Thanks so much for the reviews :) Enjoy!

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**5. Promises Forever**

What is going on inside of your head, Lyla thought, holding her beer bottle and lightly sucking on a lime wedge as she walked in the hot sand beside him. She had to get away from Jason; hell, she could barely stand to look at him after that little stunt he'd pulled. He'd looked so pleased with himself, sitting there in his damn Panama hat fedora thing from their last trip to Mexico. Like they were going to relive old times where they were actually friends who would do anything for each other.

If I were gushing blood right now I doubt Tim would even think of stopping it. He'd probably just watch as she bled out. It would solve one of his problems. Maybe that was harsh, but hell, she didn't know him anymore. Those pills…she shouldn't have snooped along with Jason, but it wasn't very much like the Tim she knew to medicate like that. Beer was one thing. Pills were another. To be honest she always thought he was just too lazy to get addicted to prescription painkillers. The stress and the work it would take to acquire them and find money to buy them would be too much. Beer was easy. Simple. That was Tim. Easy and simple. Except when he wasn't.

She wanted to punch Jason. Looking so happy. I got them together, he was probably thinking in his head. She'd hoped he was pleased with himself because she was still livid, despite that passionate little plea he'd given her in her room about an hour ago. I'm staying three days and no more. That would be enough for them. It didn't count today. So maybe it was more like four days, but who cared, really? She bet Tim wanted her as far away as possible. He hadn't looked happy with Jason either; she wondered what lie Jason told him.

But with her…shit, he'd given her that look. That sad Tim look, but then she saw it. The fire in his eyes. Probably same look she was giving back to him. Hell, he looked good. Really, really good. His face wasn't as drawn as it had been the last time she'd seen him and his hair was shorter; still a little long on the ends, but it didn't hit his shoulders and he couldn't pull it back into a ponytail. He just seemed…healthy.

She knew that he'd lost a lot of weight after jail, because her dad had briefly commented on it when he was giving her a situation report after Tim had returned to Dillon. She told him after that that she never wanted to hear about him but Buddy was proud of Tim and told her now and then how he was doing. Told her that he was back together with Tyra Collette.

Two peas in a pod, if Tyra wanted to be the one watching him puke up his paycheck every single week and wondering if each time he passed out would be the last, then that was fine with her. She was happy with her life. Until she was punching the hell out of a bag at the gym an hour after her dad told her, briefly imagining it was Tyra's face. She walked alongside Tim on the beach. She'd left the house, found him standing outside, and suggested they walk. Not talk. Walk.

So they were walking and saying nothing. It was quite nice. She held her skirt back with her hand so it didn't go crazy in the breeze. It was very warm and everything smelled like salt. It was so nice. She spit her lime wedge out into the ocean when she was done with it and took a long sip of the cheap Mexican beer Tim had brought with him. "You littered," Tim said. "A seagull just died."

"It's a lime wedge. Biodegradable." She knew he was being dry. Kidding. So could she. She smiled briefly; nice of him to make the first move. She cleared her throat. "So what did Jason tell you about me?"

"Nothing. Said it was just us. Didn't even bring you up." He waited a second before he smiled. It didn't meet his eyes, but it was at least a smile. She felt her heart kind of flutter. Damnit Garrity, stop that she chided herself. "He tell you about me? Didn't seem like it back there."

She lifted her eyebrow. "You seemed like you knew I was here."

"Nope. Guess you're as good at faking as me."

"I never faked with you." Her eyes closed when she heard his throaty chuckle. Her cheeks flushed quickly. "Not…never…forget…ugh."

"I mean I know it's been awhile Lyla, but you're just jumping two feet in, ain't ya'?" he teased. It was nice that we can sort of return to normal. If it weren't so damn awkward. He took a long sip of his beer and swallowed hard; gulping. "So what about you? You're a doctor?"

She nodded. There. Professions. That was a relatively safe topic. "Yes. I'm a doctor. Second year resident."

"You work long hours?"

"I work like over 100 hours a week," she chuckled. She shrugged a shoulder. "But I get forced vacation. One week in an entire year, not much, but I'll take it. I'm only here for three days."

"Three days."

"Yes, three days." The last time we had three days together we barely left the bed. She didn't intend it that way this time. She lifted her eyes briefly to his before turning them back to the ocean. It was a beautiful aqua. She could see straight to her feet if she wanted. She looked back up at him. "So what do you do with your time now Tim Riggins?"

I didn't mean it to come out that snotty, she thought, when she saw his slightly hurt look. His eyebrows flickered to a brief frown and his smile faltered. He swallowed and looked away. They walked in silence for a few more seconds before he whispered. "I work for the county."

Well that encompassed plenty of things. She shrugged. "What do you do for the county?"

"Things."

She chuckled. Nice Tim. I'm trying to make conversation, I don't want to play Twenty Questions. She held her hands up and then took a long drink from her beer, smacking her lips loudly. "Fine, whatever. I just asked."

They walked quietly again for a few more minutes and he shrugged, dropping his beer bottle from his lips to his side. "I'm a supervisor. I have a…a team of guys. There's ten of them and…and it's the road construction crew stuff. We…we fix the county roads and sometimes I work with Public Works on the drainage pipes and…and that sort of thing. It sucks. I hate it."

Which means it's probably a respectable, upstanding job, which it sounded like. She smiled briefly. "Does it have benefits?"

"Yes."

"Well that's good. You're a boss."

"No, I'm not. I have ten guys, practically none of them speak English, they're all older than me and they all hate me…"

"Well if they hate you then you must be doing something right," she chuckled. That's how it was supposed to be, she figured. People didn't like it when their bosses actually followed the rules because sometimes it meant that their style was a bit more cramped than they'd like. She finished her beer bottle and clinked it to his, turning and walking backwards, her feet sinking into the wet sand. "You're a boss."

I actually feel a little bit of, dare I say, pride? She knew it wasn't for her though. She quickly smiled, turning around and walking a little quicker. Maybe running away from him. Who the hell knew, really? She turned quickly, her foot slipping a little in the wet sand. She locked it in and remained in place, looking up at him. He cocked his head. "What?"

You have anxiety, repetitive nightmares, and possibly are recovering from some sort of physical injury. You have a crew of people who look up to you and who are learning from you and…and here you are. She smiled tightly. "You've come a long way. Dare I say you've got your shit together?"

The smile on his face faded. Until it turned completely upside down, a nasty frown snarling over his face, his brow furrowing. "No thanks to you, Lyla."

No thanks to me? She arched an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh?"

"Yeah, oh. You wanted me to go to college, right? Well I didn't. Now look at me."

"Yeah, look at you and you didn't go to college, say I told you so Tim, I don't give a shit what you do with your life, you already fucked it up!" Forget this crap. She was done being nice. They were doing well and then he had to turn it around. She stormed away from him, until she stopped hard. Wait, why was she running away? She spun around again and marched back to him, pushing at his shoulders. "Asshole!"

"What did I do!?"

"Fuck you!"

"Are you fucking PMS'ing or something?" He pushed her back, glaring at her. "What did I do? I didn't go to school, who cares? Wasn't going to get me anywhere, anyway. You asked what I did and I told you."

She didn't want to ask, but she did, her words tumbling out of her before she realized what she was saying. "So when did you finally go to a psychiatrist? Or did someone push you to go? Maybe Tyra? Did you wake her up screaming in the middle of the night as violent nightmares hit you hour after hour? Or are you taking those pills because your dealer or someone gave them to you? Newsflash, Buspar isn't addictive and the Vicodin is just going to help you shred your liver. Ambien and alcohol is going to put you in a coma, but if you really want that, I'd take the whole bottle next time and not just the half that you are, because you're cutting them up." She continued, her voice rising with ire. "Or maybe the Prozosin is actually for blood pressure, but guess what? You can't get addicted to that one either. We also don't give liver transplants to alcoholics and addicts, so all those pills with the beer is just going to kill you faster and no one is going to step in and give you a piece of theirs."

She spun back around, storming off again towards the house, until she felt fingers wrapping tight around her upper arm. "Let go of me!" she screamed, stomping her foot and trying to pull away from him.

"Shut up Lyla!" he shouted, grabbing her tighter. She tried to wrench away, but his grip was too strong.

So she did what she wanted to do to get away. Well, what part of her wanted to do. Her mind told her to spit in his face or step on his foot or kick him in the groin, but there was a part of her that did something stupid. Really stupid. She dropped the beer bottle in the sand and grabbed him with her free arm, pulling his face towards hers and kissing him. Oh shit, she thought, her mouth opening wide against his lips. Fuck. He tasted so good.

He threw his bottle aside and gripped the back of her skirt, his fingers digging into the bare skin of her back, moving up and finally getting enough of a grip on her hips to lift her clear off the ground. He returned the kiss with everything she was giving him, which was a hell of a lot. You want my soul too, she briefly thought, finally tearing herself away. Damnit. She dropped to her feet and pushed at his shoulders, knocking him back a little off his heels. He smiled, long and slow and lecherous. "It's been how many hours?"

One. Just one since she'd seen him. Last time they at least managed a day from when she saw him at the funeral to when she'd found herself standing outside of his trailer. And that time he was the one who grabbed her. She turned away and snatched up her beer bottle, walking a few steps away before she threw it down again and turned, but he was already there, grabbing her again. She smiled against his lips, biting down on the lower one. He groaned, his eyes opening and meeting hers. "I'm crazy," he murmured. "That's why I have the pills. And what the fuck are you doing going through my stuff?"

"Jason went through it."

"Should have known."

She stroked his face lightly, her thumb brushing over where she'd bit his lip. She kissed it lightly to make it better. "You're not crazy," she whispered. She arched her eyebrow. "Generalized anxiety? Repetitive nightmares? That's PTSD, in so many words."

"You know you know really should be a doctor."

"When did you go get them?" She arched an eyebrow, whispering. "Before or after you almost killed yourself from the pain?"

He let go of her and picked up their empty bottles, walking away towards the ocean. He followed it along back to the house and stopped before they went up the walkway towards the porch, where Jason was sitting and waiting for them. He turned around again. "I got them when my nephew came into my room and I almost killed him because I practically hit him when he woke me up in the middle of a dream." He bit his lower lip. "And he told Mindy that I screamed all night. Every single night when he stayed with me. I'd wake up sweating and I couldn't breathe." He waited a beat. "That was five years ago. They haven't really gone away."

Jesus. Must be scary for a little kid. And...and it took time to heal from stuff like anxiety. It was a constant struggle, actually, when your body began to convert your emotions into that. She frowned. "You went to the doctor?"

"I'm crazy. Prison drove me fucking crazy." He circled his finger around his ear, his eyes slightly manic. He grinned. He seemed crazy right now. If that's what he was going for. "I don't sleep. Not a full night since that place. It's been almost eight years. Still don't sleep. I take the other stuff because the nightmares don't go away and I won't go to therapy. I'm not that crazy. Plus I started…" He tapped his fingers together. She'd noticed he did that, watching him as she'd done after they saw each other again. Just tapped his thumb and index finger or his pinkie and thumb. "Stupid stuff."

"Tics," she whispered. Anxious. Nervous tics. She quirked her lip. "You would bite your thumbnail."

"It's been almost ten years and that place still sits with me." He shook his head and then steeled up. "And no, Tyra didn't hear the nightmares. I'm not with her, I don't know what you've heard. And it's none of your damn business."

"I don't care if you are or not."

"Well you probably should."

She smirked. "And why is that?"

He grabbed her around her waist, jerking her up towards him. Don't kiss him, she told herself, cocking her head and staring straight into his eyes. He smiled, his eyes dancing. He seemed happy. That should be her first clue. "Because, we have three days," he whispered. He sighed, taking a deep breath and then he leaned in, his nose brushing against her ear. He inhaled, his face in her hair. He smiled when he pulled back. "And I intend to make them just like old times. Jason's orders after all and who defies Six when he puts out an order?"

He turned, sauntering off with a happy smile on his face. Oh hell, she thought, staring after him, gaping. She pushed her hand through her hair, dropping it down to her hip and just looked at him as he and Jason laughed about something. It took an hour. Just one hour before they were fighting, making out, and he was vowing more to come. He and Jason were laughing together and clinking beers. I need a drink, she thought, walking up the stairs to the back of the house, where Jason had set out the drinks on a table. She grabbed a lime wedge and the salt. Not even bothering with a shot glass, she pulled from the bottle of tequila. "Whoa, take it easy Lyla," Jason laughed. "Wait for us to catch up."

"No time," she said. If we're going to do this. If I'm going to survive three days of this, I need to be wasted. She hadn't been really, really drunk in a long time. She intended on changing that this weekend. She took another drink and then watched as Tim threw back his shot, slamming it down at the same time as her. The challenge was on, she thought, grinning at him when he smiled back at her. He wanted in her pants again, that was his problem. She was not going to fall for that again.


	6. Drunk Forever

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews :) This fic jumps from intense to pretty loopy from chapter to chapter, so you're warned in advance that sometimes the overall emotion might not be completely linear. It's kind of done that way on purpose. Enjoy :)

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**6. Drunk Forever**

Tim swallowed another shot, throwing the shot glass at Jason across the fire that he'd set up in a pit outside the house. He laughed when he knocked Jason's foot and the glass fell off into the sand. Jason grabbed it and held it up to his eyes with his other glass, swaying back and forth. "Look at me!" he giggled.

He could barely see straight and definitely couldn't sit up straight. He grinned and fell backwards into the sand. "You have big eyes," he said, reaching for the tequila bottle. Who gave a shit about shot glasses right now?

"You both are so drunk," Lyla slurred. She'd put on a Dillon Panthers sweatshirt over her bathing suit and was wearing a long black skirt instead of that sexy little white wrap she'd had on earlier. All he'd wanted to do was take it off of her. Maybe strangle her with it and solve one of his problems.

"And you're not?" Jason snorted. He sloshed his beer bottle in the air. "This is like number…" He trailed off, snorting again; meanwhile, Tim laughed, kicking his legs in the air and letting them fall back into the sand. He'd lost his flip-flops somewhere. Didn't matter. He'd just go barefoot the whole vacation. "Well I don't know what number this is, but you were starting before me." He smiled. "You were scared of Riggins showing up."

"I was not scared! I didn't know, because you lied to me!"

"And you were scared."

He sat up, smiling at her, loopy. "You were scared Garrity?" He didn't realize that he called her by her nickname until after she just smiled at him. He shrugged. "I don't like using your real name. Ly-la," he drawled. He only used it when he really had to use it, but Garrity was more her name than Lyla to him. He smirked at her eyebrow raise. "It's too prim for you." And Lyla was not the prim girl people thought she was. At least around him.

"I'm prim."

"He didn't say prude," Jason said. "He said prim. You're not prim." See, Jason knows what's what.

She stood up, swaying on her feet and stumbling backwards, pointing at him with her beer bottle. "I am not a prude. You're an asshole." She pointed at Jason, laughing. "And you're an asshole. I fell in love with assholes, what is wrong with me!?"

"So many, many things," Tim drawled. He kind of fell backwards a little, even though he wasn't moving. He blinked hard. Whoa. He was really drunk. He blinked a few more times. Everything was kind of deaf and fuzzy. Man, no pills for him tonight, he was probably going to actually sleep more than a few hours. He fell backwards next to Lyla. He pulled at her skirt, peeking up. She swatted his hand away, but he looked again. "They're white today, Jason. Lace."

"Tim! Don't look at my underwear."

"Remember when you did that when we were kids? You'd find any way you could to get the color of Lyla's panties."

"Because you wanted to know and were too scared to find out."

"My first sexual experience was with Tim," Lyla said, looking up at the sky, slightly nostalgic.

Jason spit out his beer, coughing. "What? Did you cheat on me when we were ten too?"

What was she even talking about, Tim wondered. Until he remembered, smiling long and slow. Oh yeah. "No!" She pointed at him, glaring. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours, remember? We were seven."

"That's not sexual, that's just biology."

While she scowled at him, Jason seemed relieved that there wasn't more to it that he wasn't aware of. "There is a whole life between you guys that I have no idea about," Jason said. He sighed hard. "I missed you guys."

Now we've gone from youthful sexual discovery to Jason being sad and missing them, great, Tim thought. He blinked a few more times, trying to fight the numbing blackness that was threatening to take hold. He pulled at Lyla's skirt, tugging her down into the sand. She fell on her ass, draping her arm around his neck. I'm so drunk, he thought, when she leaned down and he kissed her. Hmm, he thought, drinking from her. He smiled around the lime wedge she'd slipped between his lips. He bit into it and pulled it out, passing it back to her.

Very slowly she ran her tongue around his fingertip. Oh damn, he thought, his eyes darkening. He drew in a sharp breath, feeling warmth spread throughout him as she gripped his hand, her mouth wrapping back around his finger and her eyes on his. "Stop," he whispered, his throat dry. Or I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you inside. I will win on that one Garrity. He knew she'd fight it, but she wouldn't. It just was a matter of when.

She let go of his hand and stood up, her eyes still on his. She pulled off her sweatshirt, revealing the tank top she had on underneath. She picked up the scarf she'd left draped over the chair she'd been sitting in a moment ago and began to twirl, long and slow, the scarf drifting in her fingers with the wind. She delicately hopped around the fire and then reclined back in Jason's lap, wrapping the scarf around his neck. "I love you," she whispered to him, letting go of the scarf. She kept her arm around his neck, sighing. "Shame that you're married. I don't sleep with married men."

"Happily married men, I heard about that professor," Jason teased.

What? Tim sat up, smiling at Lyla, who kept a flirty smile pulling on her lips. "A professor? Cliché, Garrity."

"I was a stupid, stupid little girl," Lyla murmured, dropping her lips to Jason's. She didn't kiss him, but pulled back, smiling wide. "Will you name your baby girl after me? Lyla Street was a nice name, I didn't get to use it, but maybe someone else will." She tossed her hair from her eyes, smiling serenely at him. "You're the best first boyfriend a girl could ask for." Her smile fell slightly. "Too bad I fucked it up."

Jason smiled sadly, shrugging his shoulder. "We both fucked it up." He tapped the back of his neck. "Fate. Fate fucked us."

Fate fucked them all, Tim thought, lifting his eyes from the sand to look at the two of them. They were the golden couple back in high school. Now he watched, not at all uncomfortable, as she kissed Jason lightly again, before sliding off his lap, letting go of his hand and continuing her circle around the fire, her bare feet barely touching the ground, until she reached him again. My turn, Tim thought. She knelt in front of him and lightly pushed him into the sand, reclining back against him, her hand spread out over his heart. He lifted it and lightly kissed her fingertips. She smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder again and looking at Jason. "I missed you guys too."

"You're drunk," he murmured. You didn't miss us. You didn't even want to come here. He sighed hard. "And you're lying."

"Funny thing about being drunk," she said, keeping her voice down. She shrugged. "You say and do things when all your inhibitions are down. You spill your deepest, darkest desires." She dropped her lips to his.

"What's yours?" Jason asked.

Yeah, what yours, he thought. When all the barriers were lowered, what was it that Lyla Garrity wanted? Truly, honestly wanted. Hell, she thought she knew him. Now it was his turn; he wanted to know a few things. Probably a good idea to ask now, when she was completely floating off in the clouds. He pulled her down towards him. "What do you want?" he whispered. He couldn't believe she was this wasted; she'd totally lost it. She was going to lose whatever bet she'd probably made with herself or break whatever vow she'd made.

Hell, he was breaking his promise to himself that he wouldn't care about her. That he wouldn't give a shit what was going through her head, but he did. He was. Damnit, he thought, dropping his arms to his sides. This had gotten completely out of control and it wasn't even their first complete day here together. He sat back on his elbows, watching her. Lyla smiled slightly and pushed off of him, standing up. She turned in a slow circle. "I want…" she trailed off, pointing at him and smiling. Then she turned to Jason and pointed at him. "I want Jason to name his baby after me."

You're too drunk, he thought; at least he had a little bit of sanity. Same for Jason. "Maybe you should go to bed," Jason suggested. He blinked a few times and rubbed at his eyes. "Hell, maybe I should go to bed, what do you think Timmy? Ready to pack it in?"

He shrugged, settling his head back in the sand and closed his eyes. "_No se lo que ustedes estan pensando, pero estoy pensando que seguimos bebiendo cerveza_." He opened one eye to see their expressions. Lyla was just staring at him like he'd grown two heads and Jason was frowning deeply over the rim of his beer bottle. He smiled, pleased with their shock. "Like that? See, I'm not stupid."

"No one said you were Timmy. Um, so…so when did you learn Spanish?"

"The clink."

"Prison," Lyla snapped.

Jesus Garrity, get over it. I went to jail, I didn't do it to purposefully piss you off. "Same difference."

"I hate that saying. It's ignorant."

Yeah, well, I hate people that think they're smarter than everyone else and feel the need to show it off, he thought, scowling at her. She was glaring at him. Hell, he felt a little stupid now for thinking she'd be proud of him. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to keep drinking beer, that's what I said. En Espangol." Because I can speak Spanish now. I'm bilingual. Pretty freaking crazy, if you asked him.

Lyla got up and stretched her arms up into the air. She tugged her tank top down over her waist, where it had ridden up and looked down at him. Her gaze lingered longer than he thought it should. "I'm going to bed," she murmured. She walked by Jason, tapping his shoulder. "Good night Jason."

"Later Lyla."

He waited a moment and then took a look at Jason, who was just smiling at him. His eyes narrowed. "You're an ass, Six. This isn't matchmaking."

"No, it's not. I'm not your Yenta."

"My what?"

"_Fiddler on the Roof_? Forget it."

I have no idea what a fiddler on the roof is. He pushed his fingers through his hair and stood up, blinking a few times through the alcohol-induced haze. He had never drunk that much while on his medications. No Ambien for him tonight, he thought clearly. He probably wouldn't wake up in the morning if he did. He tapped Jason's shoulder in the same spot as her. "Night Six."

"Later."

He went up into the house and walked down the long hallway, pausing outside of her bedroom. She'd left the door open and was standing in the dark, wearing nothing but the tank top as she folded her skirt in half, setting it on her small suitcase. He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossing. Now that they were out of line of Jason, he spoke quietly. "You never called."

She looked up and shrugged. "You disappointed me."

"You shouldn't have cared. It wasn't your life."

She chuckled and took off the tank top, folding it up to set on top of her skirt. In her bra and underwear, a matching white lace set, she walked across the large room to the t-shirt and boxer shorts she had set on the edge of her bed. Always prepared, that was Lyla. "I loved you Tim. I thought even after we'd broken up for good that we could at least remain friends." She shook her head, her voice dropping. "And you went to jail and I just…I made a vow that I wouldn't care about you anymore. You'd disappointed me. You'd just…nevermind that there's something fishy about it anyway, because it seemed too stupid for you to do and you're not stupid. Dumb and ignorant yeah, but you're not stupid."

And you're not stupid either, he thought, quirking his lip up. Only two people only knew the real reason why he'd gone to jail. Mindy, because she was married to Billy and then Tyra, because she'd figured it out and he'd confirmed it for her. You'll figure it out eventually, he thought, touching his temple to the doorframe. "I don't care about your disappointment," he whispered. He really didn't. It wasn't like they were together. Wasn't like she was involved in his life. He didn't want her involved, but he at least wanted an answer.

She tugged the shorts up over her slim legs and then shook the t-shirt on over her head. It was his old '33' t-shirt. The one that he'd made himself for some stupid reason or another. "Only One," he murmured. He lifted his eyes up to her. She glanced at the shirt and shrugged. "You brought that on purpose."

"I like it. It's very soft. You can't even see what it says anymore."

Yeah, sure, that was the reason. He smiled again, watching her in the pale moonlight. It seemed very bright in here. She was beautiful. So fucking beautiful and she didn't even know it. "I didn't want you to visit or call me, so I'm glad you didn't," he said. Just so that was out in the open. In case she was wondering.

"Fine." Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, glancing down at his feet and then back up to his eyes. She shrugged. "You do your self-sacrificing thing Tim. Give up your life, whatever…don't talk to me because you don't want to taint my life or whatever it is you tell yourself…I've done very well for myself without you and I want to keep doing well because…because you're right." She laughed and he saw for the first time that even in her drunken rambling that night, that her eyes were shining with tears. "Because you just…you're Tim Riggins. You live your life and do what you please. You hurt me. You didn't realize it, you didn't know it, probably not until right now, but you hurt me so much when you went to jail and…and I hate that about myself, that you still had such a hold on me to hurt me, even after I'd given you up and chosen myself for once in my life. I won't regret that choice, ever."

I didn't think that you would. You've done well for yourself. He smiled briefly. They were at the same…stage. They both got it. Understood it. He didn't want her to see him in jail so he wasn't mad at her. She didn't want to see him and she moved on. They both made choices and now here they were. "You made the right choice."

"I did," she agreed. She shrugged. "I just don't want to feel like that again. Like I did. You had a hold on me even when I didn't want it and...and you know what Tim? You can't hurt me anymore. You didn't intend to, so anything you do…it isn't going to hurt. I've moved on." She shrugged once again. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry too, he thought. He sighed, looking at his feet and then back to her again. "Do you know how hard it was to get help?" he asked. He cocked his head again, whispering. Me of all people? "To go to a doctor and admit that I needed help? I did it on my own. I got out of my hole on my own. Found a job. Built my house."

"You had Tyra…Billy…"

That's what she'd think. He shook his head. "I had no one. Tyra might have helped a bit, but Lyla she just screwed me for a week. Took my mind off things and gave me hope. That was all. She…she helps me sometimes, like a therapist, but…we're not together because she did what you did." He smiled at her frown. "She chose herself. She decided not to stay with the guy that will never leave Dillon." He pushed away from the door and walked towards her, taking the bottom of her shirt in his hands and pulled her towards him. Don't worry, he thought, when he saw the fear flash in her eyes. This won't hurt. He dropped his lips to hers in a kiss. "You and me…this thing we have…you can ignore it, but it's not going away Garrity."

And hell, I want it to go away so much. I don't want to feel like this any more than you do. He kissed her again and let go, walking back to the door when she called out. "You shouldn't drink on those medications Tim. Trust me, I'm a doctor."

He turned to look over his shoulder, shrugging. "Lock your door tonight."

"Lock yours."

He swung around the door frame and sauntered down the hall to his room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it and closed his eyes. I don't know what the hell is happening, he thought, pushing back and opened his door. He looked down the hall and saw her standing in the doorway, watching him. He sighed and stepped back into his room. At the same time he heard her door lock when he turned the one on his.


	7. Friends Forever

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews :) Enjoy!

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**7. Friends Forever**

"Whoa!"

Ow, Jason thought, knocking his head against the floor of his bedroom. He sat up slightly, looking down at his feet. He sighed and lifted his head, grabbing at the mattress and pulling himself up. He peered over the top of the bed, his eyes narrowed to slits against the sunlight streaming in everywhere. Oh my God, my head, he realized, touching at his temple.

And damn, he thought, fighting a wave of nausea. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt like this in the morning. He rolled himself onto the bed, rather ungracefully, and panted, lying on his stomach. He turned his head and glared at the bedside companion.

Tim was stretched out beside him, hugging a pillow and drooling, his hair sticking up in all places. He poked him hard. Tim barely stirred. "Riggins," he said loudly. He shut his mouth, cringing. Ow. That was loud. He hissed. "Timmy! Wake up!"

"Stop yelling."

Son of a bitch, he thought, seeing Lyla crawling out from beneath the comforter at the foot of the massive bed. What in the ever-loving hell happened after I went to bed last night? We are in my room, right, I didn't wander into theirs? Or well, one of their rooms? Although after that little spectacle they'd put on the night before, he wouldn't be surprised if two rooms condensed into one. "What the hell?" he demanded, still holding his head in one hand as he supported most of his torso upright with his other.

"Stop," Tim whispered, pulling the comforter up over his head. "Too loud."

"Riggins! Get out of my bed!"

"My bed," a mumble came from under the comforter.

Jason looked around the room; wait, they were in Tim's room. Now he turned the questions back on himself. "How did I get here?"

"Said you had a bad dream," Tim continued to mumble. He lowered the comforter slightly, peering up at him before closing his eyes and disappearing back beneath it again, a lump moving down towards the end of the king-sized bed. "And you were all sad and shit."

That didn't sound like me, that sounds like you, he thought, but said nothing. He tried to piece together what he did. He checked his phone and found a few pictures of Tim and Lyla taking pictures of him while he was sleeping, both of them laughing. Did they down another bottle of tequila? He'd overheard part of their conversation from the living room the night before, eavesdropping from the hall. Those two were more screwed up than he thought they were when he'd brought them down here.

Almost like she was reading his mind, Lyla's voice came up from the bottom of the bed. "You guys were laughing. I wanted to know why. So I came here and it was Tim taking pictures of you. So I took a few too. Stop talking, my head hurts."

"You're the one talking Garrity."

I still have questions, Jason thought, narrowing his eyes at their lumps at the bottom of the bed. He never wished he had use of his legs more than in that moment; all he wanted to do was kick them and a toe twitch wouldn't help there. What were the two of them doing in this bed together? He dropped the phone onto the nightstand, happy to see he hadn't drunk-dialed or texted Erin at some point during the night. He looked over at the lumps under the comforters. "You two better not be having sex," he demanded.

"Not yet."

"Who the hell just said that?" No one answered, but Jason was pretty sure it was Tim.

Lyla's head popped back out of the bottom of the comforter. "You guys were being loud. I was checking to make sure you weren't acting on your secret desire to sleep with each other."

"Ew!" Tim yelled. He threw a flip-flop at her as she scooted off the bed, giggling. Someone was sprightly for being hungover, Jason scowled. It wasn't fair. Lyla shouldn't be this happy. She should be suffering like the rest of them. Splitting headache, intense waves of nausea, and in Tim's case, probably a bit of withdrawal and craving for more.

Just as he thought that, he saw a look cross Lyla's face. It kind of went green and her eyes widened and then she was taking off down the hallway, skidding into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. Good, he thought, pushing at Tim. "Help me out of bed."

"I have to puke."

"Don't do it in here."

Tim closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "No wait, it's gone now."

"Did you just yoga your way out of a hangover or something?" Jason wondered. He frowned again as Tim's face kind of went gray again and he stumbled out of bed, running down the hallway.

A moment later, he could be heard banging on the door to the bathroom. "Garrity! I gotta' piss! Open up!"

"Go in the ocean!"

You both have a love that will never die, Jason thought sarcastically. So much for my best friend helping me, he thought, fighting his way back into his wheelchair. He fell down hard on it, groaning in pain as his head throbbed. He swung his legs over and then pushed himself, moving down towards the bathroom, because he felt like it was his turn to puke next, but he stopped in the doorway, making a face as Lyla lay stretched out on the tiled floor, coughing and looking miserable, one hand over her face and the other draped on the rim of the toilet seat. Meanwhile, Tim was brushing his teeth and just looking down at her, shaking his head in disgust.

Probably mad that she hadn't learned how to hold her liquor, he thought, pushing himself to the kitchen to find something to eat for breakfast. He looked up as he closed the fridge door. Tim was shuffling towards him, wearing cargo shorts, one flip-flop and a short-sleeve shirt open over his chest. He tossed back a pill and swallowed it, reaching for a bottle of beer sitting half-empty on the table and used it to toss the pill back.

Out of curiosity, Jason nodded towards him. "You take those every single day?"

"The one, yeah."

"Which one?"

Tim ran his tongue over his teeth. His voice dropped. "Doesn't matter, I take them." He blew out a hard breath, gesturing to the bathroom. "Garrity's either really hungover or she's pregnant."

"Fuck you," Lyla said, walking by him wearing sunglasses and a large sweater over her tanktop and boxer shorts. She had on one flip-flop. It was Tim's. She kicked it off and picked it up, wincing at the downward movement. She slapped it against his chest, scowling. "I'm not pregnant."

"You look like you've put on a couple pounds."

She opened her mouth again, but Jason finished what she was going to say, chuckling. "I think she's going to say fuck you again Timmy. By the way Lyla, nice mouth you have on there. I don't think I've ever heard you take the Lord's name in vain once in your life and here you are yelling fuck and shit and cursing a storm." We've all changed. There was an edge to Lyla that he'd never seen before. Tim seemed to be completely turned on by it, his eyes lit up every time she swore or gave him a dirty look or made some nasty comment.

You both are masochists, Jason figured. They had to be, because most of their drama they designed on their own. He opened the fridge, removing a carton of milk. "Timmy get your hangover cure."

"That'd be more tequila."

Lyla was pouring some into her coffee. "What are we doing today?"

"Drinking," Tim and Jason said at once.

He smiled, looking up at both of them. "I thought we could go into town later. There's some dive bars that Tim hasn't picked up an STD yet in."

"I will have you know that I never had an STD."

"Good for you," Lyla said. She smirked. "I brought antibiotics just in case."

"You planning on sleeping with me, that why?" Tim retorted.

She closed her mouth and glared at him, but said nothing. You were totally planning on it, Jason thought. He looked at his phone. Noah had sent him a text asking if he could bring back a sombrero for him. He set it on the counter. "We're going into town. No questions. Someone has to be sober, guess that's me. My life isn't as screwed up as yours."

"My life is fine," Lyla said, defensive. She sipped her coffee, her face suddenly sullen. Not to mention very pale and drawn. She waved her hand at the both of them. "It's both of you that tend to make it go haywire."

"You need the drama," Jason said. He was dead serious, but she didn't seem to think so, chuckling. He frowned a little. Why would you think I'm kidding? I know both of you as well as I know myself. He shook his head. "I'm serious Lyla. You need drama. You thrive on it. Why do you think you're an ER doctor? You can be sweet and cute and save bunnies and teach Sunday school, that's not a problem, but you also need drama."

She walked around the kitchen counter, ignoring him. Fine, be that way. Live in a fantasyland. She'd done that a few times before and it never worked out for her. I always have been the sanest one of us, even in the worst of times. He poured himself a cup of coffee; thankfully he'd set it on automatic yesterday, anticipating they'd need it.

The only one of them that didn't drink coffee was the only alcoholic, who rummaged around in the cupboards until he found an array of ingredients and began to assemble them in a blender. "What are you doing?" Lyla finally asked, when Jason couldn't figure it out.

"Protein shake."

They both choked on coffee. "Oh my God, you eat healthy."

"Feel his head, make sure he doesn't have a fever," Lyla piped up. She shook her head; her eyes narrowed him. "You once ate an entire king-sized back of Sour Patch Kids and then you want to sleep an hour later. I thought you'd fallen into a diabetic coma." She picked up a package of spinach. "Tim, this is green. Are you color-blind?"

"Nope," he chirped. He hit pulse on the blender, until the drink was a sickly looking green. He poured three glasses of it and pushed two in their directions. "You both are forgetting." He tapped his temple, smirking at him. "It's the sugar that kills you in hangovers. Protein makes it better."

Lyla's eyes were practically slits. I'm wondering who this person is myself, Jason thought. He sipped the drink, which wasn't bad, but he figured that was from the apples that he'd tossed into the mix. He set it down after a few sips, feeling pretty good, his headache was at least beginning to fade.

On the other hand, Lyla drank hers in two gulps and then froze. She closed her eyes, shuddered, and a moment later was rocketing back to the bathroom to puke. Tim sighed in disappointment. "She's also a righteous bitch when she's hungover, so we have that to look forward to this morning."

"I was never around her when she was hungover."

"She's evil." Lyla appeared around the hallway corner, gave Tim the finger, and disappeared back down the hallway. Tim shrugged. "She's also…probably just mad at me." He shrugged like it was nothing, but Jason knew that he didn't like the tension between both of them. That knowing Tim he wanted something more and was trying to act like it was nothing to him. Push it away somewhere deep where it couldn't be found, like he'd done with just about everything in his life. Then of course there was Lyla. Who was doing the same thing. Fighting something she didn't really feel.

You both can be so tough, but you're both in a lot of pain too. Jason ran his tongue over his teeth, shrugging slightly. This could get me in a lot of trouble, but let's just see where it goes. He kept his voice even, but his gaze fell to his coffee cup, looking into the dark liquid. It was pretty strong, he could barely see the bottom of the mug. "So…so do you think you guys will…"

"No."

I didn't even say what I was planning on saying. Jason smiled a little. "Well you know…Erin? My wife?"

"Yes Six, I know you have a wife."

"Well you missed the wedding," he said, his voice snapping. Tim gave him a pained look. He shook his head slightly, whispering. "Forget it."

"Jason."

"You were in jail, wasn't like you could get a pass out, you know?" Jason whispered. It was…tough to take. Getting married without his best friend. He always imagined that when he married Lyla, Tim would be his best man. He didn't have siblings and no one else was closer to him. In the end it was Noah, all year old of him, toddling down the aisle. It was sweet, but he felt it pretty deeply that one of the people he wanted there watching him get married was sitting in a jail cell. He shook his head slightly, almost shaking out the memory if that were possible. He sighed. "Anyways…so when Erin's…well when she really doesn't want something, she gets kind of standoffish."

Just like Lyla does. When she's fighting something she really wants, she grows distant and kind of mean. Lyla could be a raging bitch when she wanted to be. "What are you talking about?" Tim asked. He frowned. "We talking about your wife? You guys having problems?"

"No, actually I think I'm the only person in this house who has a healthy relationship," he said, scowling up at Tim. He sighed hard. This was getting him nowhere. "Thing is Riggins, you might be getting your life together or it might be falling apart, I can't really tell right now, but this whole weekend is supposed to be the three of us being friends again. I think we can do it and the thing is, I don't think you and Lyla can be friends. You have to let something give."

He pushed his chair around Tim, turning around when he reached the doorway leading out to the porch. Tim stared at him, his face blank. A moment passed and then he sighed hard. "It's not easy Jason. You don't know what went on with us."

"I think I can guess."

"Yeah? What do you guess Six? Because whatever you guess, it'd be wrong."

"You asked her to stay in Dillon, she went off to live her life the way she wanted to live and not the way someone else wanted, and she didn't want the be the object of your life, just like she didn't want to be the object of mine." Jason continued, seeing the shock on Tim's face start to spread out. See? I know you guys. "And she did what she wanted and you went downhill and you went to jail for some ungodly reason and you went crazy and now you've got a job and you built your house and you have your issues a little bit under control, but you know what Tim? That stuff is just a crutch. The pills are just because you don't want to figure out the real reason why you have to take them."

Tim took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and slowly let it out. "Yeah? That what you think?"

"It's what I know. You told me to go away and leave you alone and I respected that to a point Tim. I'm not going to respect it anymore. I'm your best friend." He punctuated his words by slamming his fist into his open palm. "I am your only friend, Tim, and whatever you think you are, you are not going to mess up my life or anything. I decide. I want you in my life and I want you to know my wife and my kids…" His voice began to falter slightly. He took a deep breath. "And you're going to be in it, because that's just what we are. The sooner I can get you on board, the sooner I can get Lyla and you two can figure your shit out."

He turned away, wheeling out onto the porch, where he stopped at the edge of the ramp leading to the sand and dropped his head into his arms, wrapping them around his neck. Shit. His headache was back and his heart was pounding in his chest. Why did I have to become best friends with an absolute idiot? And why did he have to fall in love with the girl that somehow fell in love with both of us? And why do I still have to love her enough that I don't want to stop being friends with her?

Erin always thought it was crazy; he hadn't talked much with Lyla, but he saw her a couple times when they were in Dillon together. She called and told him about Tim going to jail. She sent gifts to Noah for his birthday and Christmas. "Boyfriends and girlfriends can't be friends after they break up," Erin had decided; she trusted him, but he also knew she didn't really understand it.

I can't explain it. It's like a constant threesome we've been living, he thought. Tim and Lyla went to school together and he moved to Dillon when he was ten. He got in with Tim, Lyla followed Tim around and then the two of them became what they were. And Tim was always there too. He didn't ever believe Lyla had feelings for Tim until after his accident. Where he figured that Tim's feelings boiled over and she needed an outlet and he was happily there for her. They both got something out of it and then they both lost something from it. Once I was out of the way…that's when she saw that all that anger and dislike of Tim was actually coming from somewhere else.

And then they had to go and be all grown-up about things and…and he was glad for Lyla, he was, but he also knew that neither of those two could give up and hold out for very long. He lifted his head when the wooden porch floor creaked, smiling slightly at Lyla, who was wearing a pair of jean capri pants and the top of a yellow bikini. She had a sweatshirt slung over her arm and her sunglasses were holding her hair from her face. "I'm going for a swim, do you want to come with me?" she asked.

"Me swimming?"

"You did it before," she chuckled. She nudged his shoulders with her knuckles. He smiled, but shook his head. No swimming for him just yet, but he would go sit by the water. Even if he couldn't feel it until it hit his waist. "Suit yourself."

"Are you going in the pool or ocean?"

"Ocean."

Jason watched, leaning on his arm, as she shed her capris and dropped the sweatshirt with a towel down at the edge of the wet sand. She ran into the water and dove into the waves, disappearing and resurfacing every so often down the beachline, a flash of yellow in the aqua blue.

He looked up when the floor creaked again; Tim appeared, waering a muscle shirt and swim trunks. He was holding a surfboard. "Where did you get that?" he demanded.

"Closet inside. Think I can ride this thing?"

"You're going to break your neck and Lyla can't carry you all the way up the beach."

"Watch me."

Jason looked up at him, sighing. "Tim."

Tim glanced down at him; his eyes were covered by sunglasses. "Yeah?"

"Friends?" he whispered.

His best friend waited a moment and then his face broke into a smile; a real smile. It almost seemed to crack the corners of his eyes. He nodded, still grinning. "Friends, Six."

"Texas forever, right?"

Tim bumped his knuckles against his, still smiling. "Texas Forever Six." He turned away, still holding the surfboard up. He was smiling again. "I'm going to do this."

"You shouldn't do things like that while under the influence. I'm sure you're drunk and you take a bunch of pills."

"Naw, the pills just keep me from turning into Rainman."

"You are not Rainman."

"Watch me," Tim said again and ran out with the surfboard. He shed his muscle shirt and then jumped into the water with the board. This I have to see, Jason thought, wheeling himself down. He pushed himself through the dry sand, exerting most of his energy, and stopped at the edge of the wet water.

Lyla appeared beside him a moment later, dripping wet. She wiped her face with the towel, shaking her head. "He doesn't know how to surf…oh my God."

The waves were pretty big and to both of their surprise, Tim appeared on a wave, barely moving on the board, which curved against one of the slight swells as he turned into it and then came to a light glide before he hopped off in the shallow water. He didn't see them watching and did it again. About fifteen minutes later, he was crashing out in shallow water.

Lyla sat beside him in the sand, drying off, and both of them were silent, watching Tim surf on the waves, seemingly happy. "Think he's actually happy?" she whispered, breaking the silence almost half an hour later.

Jason nodded. He could see it. "Yeah, I think he might be."

"Good. He deserves it."

And that was one of the points of this weekend, Jason thought, sighing and nodding. They still had a few more days to go. At least two with Lyla and there were still plenty more that needed to be done.


	8. Free Forever

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews :) Hopefully I didn't scare too many people away with the darkness some of the chapters ended up having. I don't think the ones from here on out will get that dark. Hopefully people are sticking with it. Enjoy :)

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**8. Free Forever**

"My stomach hurts."

"Because you just ate like 100 tacos," Lyla commented, throwing down some pesos to cover their lunch at a dive restaurant along the side of the road that Jason had to stop at. Apparently they had the best tacos in Mexico, according to his client. She had to admit they weren't bad. She just didn't eat ten of everything the way that Jason and Tim always had.

Tim finished his beer and reached over for hers. He finished that one too before sighing and slouching in his chair, dropping the straw cowboy had that he'd located in his room and had taken the wearing that afternoon. "I need a nap," he announced.

"You need a lot of things," she mumbled. She glanced sideways at him; that morning had been a little strange. Briefly she thought they were kind of back to normal, laughing about something stupid he did or bantering back and forth. Until she reminded herself that they were not dating and they had been anything but normal.

This was survival, she'd gone into survival mode. She'd recovered a bit from her hangover, changed into her bikini, and went for a swim. When she finished, she'd found Jason just watching as Tim tried out a surfboard. She'd fully expected to laugh at him, when she realized that Tim was in some sort of world, where it was just him. Which was kind of where he needed to be in that moment and it wasn't something for her and Jason to laugh at.

She'd sort of had an epiphany, sitting there with Jason. This was a weekend of reminiscing. Of patching up relationships that they'd allowed to falter. She would…she would try. She would really try to…to push aside what she felt. Some of that frustration and…and the hurt that was bubbling up. She'd be proud of what he'd become. She wouldn't let him take her life over, but…but she'd be friendly. It would be fine. She'd totally be able to do it.

Nevermind that all she'd kind of wanted to do this morning beneath the covers of the bed was to tell Jason to get the hell out. While Jason had been rambling, Tim had been nuzzling into her neck and hugging her, his hands dancing around in place she knew he shouldn't be dancing. She about killed him; thank God she'd had to throw up and ran out of the room before she let him do something she'd regret.

She pulled out her phone, glancing at some messages. Vacation. I have another day and a half until I leave. She turned the phone off, shoving it into her bag. "Come on," she said, standing up. "Let's go. Jason where are you going?"

"I'm going to check something out, I'll meet you guys at the truck in a bit."

"Jason!"

Tim leaned over to their waitress, smiling quickly at her. He rattled something off in Spanish and the waitress smiled, giggling a little. He said something else, leaning against the chair. A moment later she'd brought them two beers and waved when he tried to give her a tip. She gestured towards something and he thanked her. "Come on," he said, nodding towards the street.

They hopped off the packed dirt sidewalk into the street, her sandals flopping against the soles of her feet. "Where are we going?" she asked, reaching into her crossbody bag for her sunglasses. Maybe she should get a hat. She held her skirt, a long multi-colored maxi that fluttered around her legs, and pushed her sunglasses onto her face. She glanced over her shoulder, frowning. "Where did Jason go?"

"Said he had to check something out. Come on." Tim walked down the street like he knew exactly where he was going. She took a moment to observe him for a brief moment; he had one hand shoved into the pocket of his cargo shorts, leather flip flops that flapped on his feet, and he wore a button-up short-sleeve shirt that was a light green. It brought out the greenish hue in his hazel eyes. With the silly straw cowboy hat on his head, he looked like he belonged in the tropics. And he seemed very relaxed.

She ran to catch up with him, dumping her bottle of beer in a trash bin as she followed Tim through the small little town. She glanced up at him, smiling a little. "So when did you learn to surf? You were pretty good this morning."

"Not hard."

"Actually it's pretty hard, it's a lot of balance and…athleticism." She chuckled. "Nevermind. You're probably the most naturally athletic person I know."

He smiled down at her. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're good at any sport. Remember when we went ice skating at Christmas? I couldn't pull away from the edge of the wall but you were doing circles and hockey stops within five minutes," she said. She smiled again; it was kind of nice to…to be nice with him. She tossed her hair out of her eyes, her voice soft. "Jason seems hell bent on…fixing us."

The smile he sort of had flirting on his lips faded away. He took a few sips of his drink, letting his hand fall down to his side. "Yeah," he murmured. "He just wants us back the way we were."

"But we can't ever go back that way."

"No," he agreed. He stopped at the end of the street, looking ahead for a moment, until he glanced at where there was a fork. One street went left and the other right. He took a deep breath, glancing down at her. She didn't like the look in his eyes; it was very intense. She shifted, feeling like he was x-raying her. He nodded towards the fork. "Right or left?" he whispered.

She cleared her throat. "Left," she answered.

"Why?"

She glanced at the two streets. The right one was darker and had more cars lining it. Less traffic. The left had more. It seemed brighter. She nodded towards the left one again before looking back up at him. "I do miss you," she said. It kind of came out. She didn't mean it to and registered the surprise on his face. She smiled. "I want to be friends."

He shook his head. "We can't be friends."

"I think we can. I think we can be friends…we can at least try."

"We can't be friends," he repeated. He shook his head again, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "Friends don't want to take the other and lock themselves in a room for an entire week." He reached forward, flicking a stray strand of hair from her face and she drew a sharp intake of breath, her eyes lifting to his again, locking on as he leaned in. He swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing. "And friends don't…well they just don't do what we do Garrity."

"We can't," she hiccupped, taking another breath to calm herself. It felt like all her muscles were twitching. This was not what she intended when she brought this up. She took another deep breath, but her diaphragm jumped again. Damnit, that always happened when she held her breath. She swallowed a few times, calming herself before she was ready to speak. She cleared her throat again. "Tim we can't. I don't want to…to upset your life any more than I already have being here on this trip. You've done well and…and I'm happy to see that and…and you deserve it."

Dear God do you deserve it, she thought, breaking away from him and walking down the left street. She walked into a shop, smiling at a little old lady sitting behind the register. It was full of multicolored scarves, skirts, hats, and all kinds of little knickknacks. She wondered how the woman made money, because there weren't very many tourist spots along this beach. She didn't know if Tim had followed her and she didn't really care.

She turned when she heard a creaking behind her, seeing Tim appear. Okay, so he did follow her. A moment of looking at scarves, she smiled when he came up behind her in the mirror, setting a straw fedora on her head, the band around it a pretty patterned fabric. "You look sweet," he commented.

"I like it," she drawled, tilting it down over her eye and holding her fingers up like a gun. "All I need is a trenchcoat." She draped a scarf around her neck, smiling and sighing, taking it off. "Too bad I don't have a reason to buy it."

"You don't need a reason."

"I can't wear any of this stuff. I live in scrubs and sweats."

Tim dropped the hat on her head again, putting another scarf around her and smiled, moving around her. "Do something crazy Garrity," he whispered, putting another scarf over her head. She giggled, but quickly pressed her lips into a thin line. Don't, she thought. He's just trying to get into your pants. Ignore him. He put another scarf over her, whispering into her ear, smiling. "Jason was right this morning. You live on drama."

He didn't know what he was talking about. I don't live on drama, I hate…I hate drama, she thought, closing her eyes as he walked around her in a circle, dragging his finger over her shoulders. I need some excitement, she thought, sighing hard. He was right. It wasn't drama, it was just…she didn't like steady. She'd done that for most of her entire life. Perfection. Steady. Planned. Then there was Jason's accident and her family drama and Tim…hell…there was Tim.

The most unpredictable thing in her life was him. From there on she sought it out. She liked some of the anticipation of the unknown. Hell, she'd slept with a professor in her sophomore year at Vanderbilt. Then there was one of her attendings when she was an intern, but just about everyone did that. It was exciting. Once she got a taste, she didn't want to stop. "Stop," she whispered, when Tim finally circled around her. Her eyes opened and she reached up, taking scarves off of her.

A few minutes later, she'd chosen several to purchase, along with a skirt and a woven bag. And the fedora. They finally left the store, walking down the rest of the street and stopping so Tim could get a pop that was made with real sugarcane. He loved the Mexican pop, she thought. He slurped it up through a straw, looking out over the ocean as they stopped on the beach. "Where do you think Six is?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Doing his Jason thing." She tossed her hair out of her eyes, taking the pop from him and sipping. She passed it back, sighing and slipped out of her sandals, picking them up and held them on her finger as they walked in the warm sand. She thought of something, her eyes lifting back to his. "You know," she said. "You really shouldn't be taking all those pills."

"I'm not talking about that with you."

"Tim."

"I'm not," he said, his voice firm. He scowled down at her. "It's between me and my doctor and that's not you, Lyla. I take them because I need them."

"You take them because you don't want to face why you take them," she whispered. It was a big enough step that he actually went and got the pills in the first place. The flip side was, he went and wanted pills because that was something his brain could focus on. Take a pill and feel better. Don't talk, don't go to a therapist and actually work through your issues."

"What issues?" he demanded.

"You tell me!"

"I don't know!"

"And that's the issue!" she laughed. It was like a catch-22. Her smile fell, but her eyes remained on his, sympathetic and understanding. She pushed her hair from her eyes, looking back at him. "Tim, you went to prison! Prison didn't make you crazy, it just was something you weren't anticipating and…and you have to deal with those emotions. You have to own up to what you did and what happened and…and you have to…to realize that it wasn't you or something I mean…I don't know what happened, but…but you didn't talk to Jason because he said that you told him to leave you alone so he did but you can't do that Tim! You can't shut out people that love you!"

"And who loves me?" Tim snapped at her. He laughed. "Jason? Fine, I get that. My brother? Don't get me fucking started on Billy."

I know there were some problems there for awhile. My dad told me. She shrugged, her voice soft. "Tyra."

"Oh Jesus Lyla."

"What?"

"Stop it with the jealousy, I'm not with Tyra!"

"Well excuse me!" she snapped. "I didn't know that!"

"I told you!"

"I didn't believe you!"

They stood there, squared off on a beach like they had the day before, but both were smiling and laughing, coping with the overwhelming emotions that way instead of swearing and being nasty. Tim lifted his eyebrows, whispering. "You didn't believe me?"

She shrugged, her voice mumbling. "I don't know…I just didn't." She swallowed hard and looked up at him again. You have done well. You might be happy. I think you might be happy even if you don't know it. It's not all you planned but none of us are living the lives we planned. Lyla tossed her hair out of her eyes again.

"Damnit Lyla." He reached over, lifting her hat and pushed her hair beneath it, slamming it back down on her head. Her eyes were wide and he scowled at her. "There."

Thanks. She tried to keep from smiling, but couldn't. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"You're welcome. Now come on, let's go find Six."

I don't know if we're done talking. I still want to know more. Iw ant to know about after prison and…and I actually want to know. I know I said I don't care, but who am I kidding, she thought, following after him and catching up. They walked back to the truck in silence, finding Jason sitting outside of it, looking pleased with himself. Which was never a good thing. "What?" she asked, setting her bag of scarves in the back of the truck.

"Let's get back to the house, but we're coming back to the bar tonight."

"Why?"

They both looked at Tim. "Because it's a bar in Mexico," Jason explained to him, like he had two heads. Even Lyla was wondering why Tim thought it was strange that they'd return to a bar. He smiled. "I talked to the guy. Something with the firm, he's going to help out when I bring people down here to the house to woo them. But anyway, it's free drink karaoke night, so we're going to be playing some tunes."

"No," Lyla said, laughing at the look he gave her. I haven't done something like that since spring break of freshman year and that was when I was about as wasted as I was last night. Just not as much. "No I'm not singing."

"Yeah, you're terrible," Tim said. He pointed to Jason. "But Six can carry a tune."

"And Tim has some hidden talents."

"Tim cannot sing." He was awful. High-pitched and squeaky, believe it or not, Lyla thought, remembering some of the times she'd woken up to him in the shower, belting out 80s rock. He was really terrible. She frowned at the look between Jason and Tim. They knew something she didn't and she hated that. "What?"

"You'll see," Jason said, moving towards the truck. "Come on. Let's get back. Am I right though Tim? Did I hear right about your hidden talent?"

"How do you know about it?" He frowned. "Who did you talk to?"

"Buddy Garrity told me."

What the hell did her father tell Jason but not tell her? Well, could have been a lot of things. Buddy refused to even bring up the topic of Tim around her, out of respect to her feelings. "What are you guys talking about?" she asked. Neither of them answered.

They all got into the truck and Tim drove away from the curb, a smile flirting on his lips. Lyla frowned at him, but said nothing. She supposed that she'd just have to find out that evening. She also wanted to know a couple more things. Something was starting to fall into place. Tim was going to answer for it too, before this weekend was through.

The good news though, she thought, sitting between Jason and Tim in the front of the truck, the windows down and the wind blowing through around them. The good news was that they were sort of back to normal. Whatever normal was, she thought, dropping her head to Jason's shoulder and closed her eyes. Or if they ever really had been.


	9. Lovers Forever

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews :) I hope people are still sticking with this story. Just FYI, this chapter is the 'turning point' and next chapter is probably my favorite. Enjoy :)

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**9. Lovers Forever**

"I can't believe Tim's secret talent."

My secret talent. Whatever. He snorted, leaning against Lyla because they were both way too tipsy and if they both stopped, they'd fall over on top of each other and probably wouldn't get up until morning. Not that that would be a bad thing, but Tim hated sleeping outside. Especially in sand. That's why God invented roofs, in his opinion. He laughed. "S'not a secret!"

Lyla poked his chest. "I didn't know you could play the drums!" she cried, laughing. She looked down at Jason, who wasn't with them. "Where's Jason?"

The last he thought, Jason was with them on the beach. They turned around and saw that Jason was just glaring at them from the top of the stairs, unable to push his chair through the sand. "Whoops!"

"I'll get him!"

He ran up to Jason and leaned down, with Jason scowling at him. "Nice, Riggins, forgetting me."

"I didn't do it on purpose." He lifted him up, stumbling slightly and blinking. Okay, he could do this. It was like a balancing test, carting Six around in his arms. He grunted, carrying Jason down to the water. He'd gained a few. "Shit Six, how much weight did you gain?"

"It's all muscle, unlike you, beer gut."

Beer gut? He was always moving around for his job, he didn't have a beer gut. He reached the spot where Lyla had decided to camp, in a patch of dry sand that was just close enough to the water where you could feel it lightly on your face, but when the tide came in and out, they wouldn't drown. He set Jason in the sand, plunking down on the other side of Garrity, who was stretched out between them, her head on her bunched up jacket, using it like a pillow.

He rested his head beside hers, drawing his knees up. "What are we looking at?" he mumbled, trying to see if there was anything in the sky. Like maybe a spaceship. Or an alien. Damn, I'm drunk

"The stars, I love looking at the stars," Lyla sighed. She glanced at Jason, smiling. "He's sleeping."

What the hell? He glanced over Lyla, seeing that Jason had fallen asleep, his hands on his stomach and his hat having fallen over his face. How did that happen so fast? They just sat down. He reached over, poking Jason's shoulder. "What?" his friend slurred, moving slightly against Lyla, using her jacket for his head. He sighed, his eyes lifting open slightly. "The stars are pretty." Why were they fascinated by stars? They were just…stars. He moved his head to rest on Garrity's shoulder so he could still use her jacket as a bit of a pillow too. He dropped his hand down, lightly covering hers. This was really nice. He closed his eyes, sighing in contentment.

A few seconds passed, until Jason spoke again. "That's my hand Riggins."

Oh. Well that explained why it wasn't as soft as it used to be. He frowned, still holding Jason's hand. "Then why is it on Garrity's stomach?"

"Yes, why is it on my stomach?" Lyla wondered, lifting Jason's hand and placing it back in his lap. She then moved his hand over so it wasn't reaching for hers either. Damn. Guess she still wasn't in a touchy mood. Despite the fact that earlier they'd been dancing together, practically all over each other. Apparently the drumming turned her on or something. Whatever happened to hating me, he wondered slightly. He really didn't care about the answer. She was just so…he didn't know where she stood.

Hell, he barely knew where he stood on this whole thing. She wanted to be friends, she said so earlier, but he didn't believe her. She was just saying that. They couldn't be friends. They either were going to be together or they weren't. They couldn't even do that thing he did with Tyra for awhile, where he was her sexual band-aid when she wasn't with anyone and was bored. He sighed. "What are you thinking?" Jason murmured.

"Nothing."

"You're thinking about something. I know you."

I'm not thinking about anything. "Just be quiet," he said, his voice soft. Just lay like this. Staring at the stars. In the sand and practically asleep. A few minutes passed again and he felt small fingers curling into his. He glanced down; Lyla had put her hand into his, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring up at the sky. Jason was sleeping again and he noticed that she'd lightly covered his wrist with her fingers. Nice. They lay like that for some time, the three of them just in the sand, looking at the stars.

I have no idea how long it's been, he thought, what felt like hours later. He shifted, feeling Lyla get up from between them. She dusted sand off of herself and glanced at him before looking at Jason, who was fast asleep, his hands curled under his chin. "Help me with him," she said softly, leaning to lift his shoulders.

They carried him back inside, placing him in his own bed. He wanted to sleep; that day had been rather exhausting. A lot of emotion, drinking, and surfing could really take it out of a guy. He left Lyla without a word, going into his bedroom, but he left the door open. He sighed, dropping his sandy clothes on the floor and dropping into the bed in his briefs. He pulled a pillow over his face, knowing he needed sleep.

But he wasn't really tired right now. Damnit. He sat up and grabbed the bottle of tequila sitting on his nightstand, pouring it down his throat. He got out of bed and began to pace, reaching to scrub at his face. There was a lot going through his head. They'd gone to the bar, they'd had a few drinks, made some memories, all that good stuff. Lyla got to see his secret talent, once he was sufficiently buzzed. He could play the drums a bit, mostly because when he was bored at Buddy's he'd play the ones set out on the stage for local bands. It pissed Buddy off and was a bit of a stress reliever for him, so he was two for two on that.

Then they'd come back; had to take a cab and leave his truck because they were all too over the edge to drive. Laid on the beach for a bit and now here they were. It was nice. It was very nice. "Shit," he cursed, continuing to pace and drink. His mind started going faster and faster as he drank, which usually wasn't the case. Usually it slowed down.

What the hell were they doing? We're crazy. Tomorrow was her last day. Then what? Then it was him and Six? No, that was going to be weird. He'd drive back in a few days. Then what? To his house? That was nice, he liked his house. Hated his job. Hated being a real person sometimes, but it was better than the alternative. He had a hobby. He could play the drums, sort of. That was a lot of fun. He still helped out with the football team.

I still have nightmares. Still feel like I'm in a box, going to die. They destroyed him. Every single night he woke up screaming. He wanted to kill anyone that tried to wake him up. He was suffocating himself. He almost passed out at work, actually got his hand sliced on a road equipment tool because he was so tired. The doctor told him he had to deal with them or else they'd get him killed when he was awake during the day. So he took pills because it was easier than realizing why he woke up feeling like he'd just suffocated to death. He dropped the tequila bottle on the bed and scrubbed at his face again, pushing his hands through his hair. "I can't do this anymore," he murmured to himself, his eyes wide as he scanned the room.

He turned on his heel, marching down the hallway and into Lyla's room. She was asleep on the bed, the windows around her open and letting in the nice cool breeze. He fell to his knees at her bedside; it wasn't lost on him that it was like he was praying. Very carefully he leaned over her. "Lyla," he whispered. She stirred slightly. He lightly covered her shoulder, shaking her slightly. "Hey. Garrity."

Whoa, he thought, a hand reaching out to punch him. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed, flying back from him, her head knocking into the headboard and her arms flailing. She closed her eyes, lifting her hand to her heart. "You scared me!"

"I didn't know you were asleep."

"I'm still drunk," she grumbled, glaring up at him in the darkness. Which wasn't really dark, because the moon was so damn bright outside that it looked like there was a cool light on in her large room. Her room was on the edge of the house, in the corner and seemed to overlook the entire ocean. She flung a pillow behind her, leaning back on it and closed her eyes again. "What are you doing Tim?"

He didn't know what he was doing. He got up and went to her door, closing it amid her quiet protest that he should keep it open. No. I'm not keeping this door open because I'm fairly certain I know where it's going to lead. He went back to the edge of the bed and fell back on his knees before he rocked onto his heels. He closed is eyes again and rested his hands on his knees. A few minutes later he opened his eyes again. She was watching him, her arms stretched back behind her head. "I went to jail," he whispered, lifting his eyes to hers.

It seemed so much clearer now. I'm going to tell her, he thought. I'm going to voluntarily tell someone what happened. Even though I promised I wouldn't. Even though if anyone else found out that he'd lied…well then both he and Billy would be a shitload of trouble. She nodded slightly. "I know you did," she whispered.

"I didn't do anything wrong, but I went to jail." She frowned, not saying a word, and he continued, because he didn't expect her to say anything just yet. He chuckled; it was kind of a release. It felt good. "I went to jail for Billy. Billy did the things…Billy broke the law and…and he had a baby. He had a baby and he broke the law and we didn't have a dad so I gave his kid a dad and I went to jail and I screwed up my life." It was just rambling out before he even knew what he was saying. "I screwed up my life, Billy screwed up his too a bit more, and then when I got out it didn't get better, it got bad and…and then it got a little better and it's always like that. It always gets bad and then it gets better."

So there. I said what I said. I feel a little better now. I feel…wow I actually feel a lot better. He felt tired. Like he just got slammed with a truck of fatigue. Aw, hell, he laughed, falling backwards onto the floor. He lay there, arms and legs akimbo, grinning up at the skylights and the stars beyond them. Wow. That felt good. He whipped his head back up, looking at her, but Lyla wasn't smiling. Uh-oh, he thought, his smile falling. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "You lied for your brother?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"You…you went to jail and you ruined your life and…and you did it all because your stupid brother had a baby and you wanted that baby to have a dad, even…even if he wouldn't remember it at all? Even…" She closed her eyes and reached her fingertips to her forehead, holding her other finger up and pointing it at him as she spoke. "Even though that baby was like a year or so old when Billy would have gotten out? Would have no memory but…but one day would know…so you didn't want him to think bad….right?"

Well he didn't really think like that, but…yeah, he guess. So he nodded. "Yes."

Lyla pushed her hands through her hair. She shook her head a few times and closed her eyes. After a few deep breaths, he wasn't sure what she was going to do. "Fuck," she cursed. That wasn't what he thought, he frowned, sitting up. What was she thinking? He frowned, cocking his head at her. She glared at him, tears in her eyes. A tiny smile pulled on her lips. "I hate you so much," she said, but it was more like a laugh. There was no hate behind it at all. That's a weird thing to say. That you hate someone.

Why? He shrugged. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He didn't know why he said that. Felt like it was the right moment for it.

"For what, you idiot?"

"I don't know, I'm just sorry. I feel like I should be right now for some reason." I don't really know why you're having this reaction. It's kind of strange right now. He leaned forward over her head, whispering. "What do you think?"

Lyla grabbed him by his shoulders, yanking him over her on the bed. She flipped so she was on top of him, her nails digging into his chest as she lowered her face over his. She didn't say a word, kissing him hard before pulling away before he had a chance to kiss back. "Not another word," she murmured, lowering her face back down to his. She shook her head, whispering. A tear dripped from her cheek to his. "Don't say another word."

Okay, he thought, his arms wrapping around her and flipping to the other side of the king-sized bed.


	10. Brothers Forever

**A/N: **This was my favorite chapter and I don't quite know why; anyways, as always thank you for the reviews and enjoy :)

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**10. Brothers Forever**

"So are you guys having fun? Seems like it. Unless you're lying to me."

Jason yawned, his jaw cracking from the force. He shuddered. "No, no lying, just thought I'd call." He yawned again and sat up, looking around. Good. He was in his room and no one else's. There also wasn't anyone else in his bed. How did he get to his bed? Tim must have carried him. He pushed himself up, propped against the wall behind him. "We're…coping."

Erin was frowning; he could hear it in her voice. "Oh? Coping? What's that mean?"

"I can't explain it…it's like everyone has all these emotions and can't really think and is kind of going crazy. Then we're fine and we have fun and then…I don't know, I don't know what's going to happen when we leave." He scrubbed his fist over his face. I need a shower, he thought, sniffing his shirt. He made a face. Gross. He glanced at his chair; damn thing. It was more of an annoyance than anything else these days. Didn't hold him back the way he thought it would, but it was still annoying.

I need a robot to lift me up and put me in the chair. Erin sighed on the other end of the phone. "Jason I just hope that this is actually you taking time off. You need it and I just think…babe you know I like Tim…"

"You hate him." He smiled. It was an ongoing thing between them. Whenever she didn't really like someone, she always started off her sentences with 'you know I like…' "Don't lie to me Erin."

"Okay I don't…I don't hate him or anything, but…"

He chuckled; yeah, he thought so. He nodded a little and smiled, his eyes closing and his head resting back against the wall. "So what about Tim do you want to tell me?" he asked. It wasn't going to be a big deal, they didn't dictate each other's lives. They might not like certain things, but they never forbade the other from something that they didn't like. She was never going to come down and say he couldn't see Tim again. "Because…" he ran his tongue over his teeth. "Erin he's very different. I just…" It started falling out, because he couldn't tell Lyla. Lyla had a very different level of experience with Tim and her feelings were going to be different as a result. He closed his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. "Erin I feel like I lost my best friend and this other person is…he's my best friend too, but he's just…he's darker."

We can be friends; we are friends. I hope we'll continue to stay in touch. I'll force it if I have to and he knew it would always be on him to keep that connection going. Not that it was a slight on Tim, but…Tim was just Tim. He lived in a land he called his own and reaching out every so often to make sure they were still friends wouldn't be something he'd think about. He'd just always assume they'd stay that way. "He's on pills and he…he's getting his life together though. I mean, he's got a job and…and I think he'll be okay. I think he didn't want to talk to me because he thought he was bad. That he'd ruin me somehow. He's so selfless he's selfish."

"Well that's something," Erin whispered. She chuckled. "Jason, he's your best friend. You guys have been through a lot together. I don't think this is going to go away…I think you have to learn to be best friends as adults. With lives and different experiences."

"I know. It just sucks. It's hard."

"No one said friendship is easy."

No, no it certainly wasn't, especially with Tim Riggins as your best friend. Jason smiled again. "I miss you and Noah. I'll be home in a few days."

"Well-rested, I hope."

"Well I do have Tim here," he teased. Well-rested? He wasn't sure passing out drunk was the same thing as being well-rested, but Erin didn't need to know that. He sighed, his voice soft. "I'll talk to you later. Love you."

"Love you. Don't let those Mexican girls steal you from me. Or your ex-girlfriend."

"Yeah, well my ex-girlfriend is probably in bed with her ex-boyfriend who is my best friend."

"You lived such a soap opera before you met me Jason."

"Who says it quit being a soap opera?" He laughed with her and said his goodbyes, promising he'd talk to Noah later. They'd been texting of course. His son was barely ten years old and yet he was already losing connection with him. Noah was into his friends and his friends' lives. Parents were starting to become an afterthought and an annoyance.

I better find them, he thought idly, hoisting himself out of bed and into his chair. He wheeled himself out of the room, pushing down the hallway and pausing at the closed door to Lyla's room. He knocked lightly and pushed the door open, peering inside. As he pushed it open, he sighed, shaking his head at the sight before him.

A foot was sticking out from beneath a pile of blankets and covers and the only reason he knew it wasn't Lyla's was because it was about six sizes too big. Hers was right beside it, because the toenails were a bright red. He sighed, knocking on the edge of the door louder with his knuckles. A groan came from somewhere in the covers, along with an 'oof' as someone moved. "What?" Tim growled, sticking his head up from the pile.

"Wake up. We have one day left with her and I'm not letting you hog her."

There was movement beneath the covers and a slim hand slipped out from underneath, holding onto the edge of the mattress as she stuck her head out. "You know," Lyla grumbled, blinking against the harsh sunlight pouring in through the open plantation shutters. She rubbed at her eyes. "I'm not a toy," she said, her throat dry and scratchy. She blinked a few more times, moaning and covering her eyes with her palm. "Turn off the sun."

"That's unlikely to happen."

"Try," she whispered, looking up and over at Tim, who had gone back under the covers. She shook her head, her face falling as she sat up farther, holding the sheet against her chest. She looked over at Tim, who was completely tucked under the covers in a ball. He wasn't a morning person. Something crossed her face and she closed her eyes, whispering. "Aw, damn."

"What?" Jason asked.

"Nothing."

Clearly it was something, but she wasn't planning on telling him so he let it go. Whatever. Probably realizing what a mistake she'd made. He smiled slightly, nodding to the pink panties on the floor. "So you guys seem like you're back on good terms. Nice color panties Tim. Didn't know you liked pink."

A finger came up from beneath the covers. Tim's middle one. Lyla rolled her eyes, snorting. She shook her hand through her hair and sighed, looking over at him. A smile pulled at the corner of her lip. "Give me a minute to clean up and I'll make breakfast. Huevos rancheros good for you?"

"Sounds great." He wheeled back to the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. He shook his head slightly, pulling the door closed. He took a deep breath; you never looked back. Ever. Out of the corner of his eye, he darted towards the room again, smiling slightly when he saw Lyla laughing as Tim grinned, pushing her back into the pillows. "About damn time," he mumbled, pulling the door shut.

Several minutes later, he looked up from taking out things from the fridge for Lyla to make them breakfast, seeing her walking towards him in a pair of shorts and one of Tim's shirts. "You don't have pepper jack cheese?" she asked, opening up the fridge again. "Damn."

"Just put peppers in it. That's kind of the point."

"Tim hates peppers."

"Tell Tim to suck it."

"Language Six," Tim said, leaping out of the hallway. He held his hands out, grinning. "Last day! I'm getting you on a surfboard Six."

They both frowned at him from behind the counter on the raised kitchen, seeing Tim jumping around. He had extra energy. Jason snatched a long curl of red pepper from where Lyla was cutting them up, popping it into his mouth. He frowned, peering out the window as Tim grabbed the surfboard and ran out to the ocean. "The hell did you do to him last night?"

"I have no idea." She popped his hand when he reached for another pepper. "Stop it."

"Tim doesn't eat peppers, you said so yourself." He looked up at her, smiling; she seemed a lot calmer. He frowned a little; she really seemed calmer. Her hair was even kind of bouncier. He watched as she moved from the counter to the stove, throwing things in pots and pans and bowls, mixing everything up. She bounced on her bare toes, twirling and humming to herself. Yeah, she was very happy. He reached for another pepper, biting into it and looking up when she glancing down at him.

"What?" she chuckled. She took the handful of peppers, tossing them onto the pan, where they sizzled loudly, steam rising up as they cooked with the eggs. She shook the pan, tossing everything with a spatula. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

He frowned. "Like what?"

"Like you used to look at me when we were dating," she said, wiping her thumb on his nose. He reached his hand up, rubbing at it as she spun around again, setting things in the sink. That wasn't how I was looking at you, he thought. If anything I was just realizing that you're happy. Took two days, a lot of yelling, probably a ton of emotional upheaval, and one night with Tim and she seemed happier. Less tense.

To lighten the mood, he poked her in the back of her knee as he wheeled around to the ramp, slowly descending into the living room. He turned around, picking up his hat and dropped it onto his head. "Seems like you should have just gotten laid when you showed up," he teased. A pepper flew by his head a second later, but she was smiling. He looked out the open doorway at Tim, surfing in the water. Strange sight, but it seemed slightly normal. He nodded towards the doorway. "I'm going to check on Tim. Yell when food's ready."

"Don't get yourselves killed please."

No promises, he thought, wheeling down to the sand. He pushed himself through the dry stuff and finally stopped, waiting for Tim to notice. He nodded towards the surfboard. "So can that thing fit both of us?"

Tim smiled. Several minutes later he was on a board, connected to Tim by the safety cord of his board. His legs were useless, hanging over the side, but he held himself up with his arms, watching the shoreline bob out in the distance. They weren't too far out, but he knew Tim would have preferred to go farther. He glanced sideways. Tim was just sitting on his board, staring at the water. "Are there sharks in here?" he asked, breaking the silence between them; although it was nice to just listen to the water lap at the surfboards and crash as it crested to the shore.

"Maybe."

"Doesn't that freak you out?"

"Not really."

Well it probably should; just mentioning it kind of had him worried a bit. He couldn't paddle himself in unless he was on his stomach, so he slowly lowered himself and lifted, with Tim helping him stabilize the board so that he was on his stomach. He folded his hands beneath his chin. This was really nice. Too bad there was no surfing in New York. Maybe during the next vacation, because he did plan on taking another vacation, he'd take Noah to Hawaii. They could surf there. With dolphins instead of sharks, he hoped.

They floated for a few more minutes, until Tim spoke softly. "Sorry about this morning."

"Hmm?"

"Sorry about this morning."

"No, I heard you." He took a deep breath, sighing. Yeah, he knew what Tim was apologizing for. Lyla. "I'm married Tim. With a kid." He glanced sideways; Tim really did look sorry. "You guys were making out in front of me the other night. Seeing the two of you giggling together? Kind of weird, not going to lie, but…" He shrugged. It didn't bother him that bad. It had been God knew how long. His voice dropped and he looked down at his hands, watching the water wash over them as he held onto the board. "But it's been forever. I mean…Lyla loves you."

"She loves you too."

"And I love Erin," he said, smiling. I love her. More than anything. He rested his chin on his folded hands. "I love her Timmy. I'm so glad I met her. She…she gets me. The guy in the chair. It's all she knows. She loves me, she doesn't…she doesn't know Six. She doesn't know the quarterback that lost it all. She just knows me. We have a kid together. A kid that we shouldn't have had together but somehow we did. We're having another. Another kid that we fought for and we got." There might still be love for Lyla Garrity, but it was nostalgic. That sweet high-school love.

It wasn't passionate. It wasn't all-consuming. He loved her. He'd made a life with her and he loved her and it was what he wanted. Meanwhile, Tim and Lyla…they had that insanity cloud around them most of the time. He sighed hard, frowning and looking back to the beach. "Are you guys going to…" he wasn't sure what he was asking and frowned deeper. "Tim?"

They floated for a few more minutes, moving closer to shore as the waves began to push them closer. "I don't know," Tim finally said. His face was rather calm. There weren't any frowns or furrows. He cocked his head slightly. He shrugged. "I don't know Jason." He glanced down at him, shrugging again. "I don't know what…I don't…" He seemed frustrated that he couldn't put it into words. He groaned. "Why did you have to have this weekend?"

He smiled. "Because I did."

"I love her Six."

That was the first time that Tim had ever said that to him. They never, ever spoke about Lyla. Not even when Tim started dating her, for real, senior year. He'd learned about it from catching them kissing in front of the school. He'd asked Lyla about it and got confirmation. He'd asked Tim and all he'd gotten was a "Are you okay?" and when he said yes, that was all they'd ever said. Jason took a deep breath. "Okay."

"No like I love her," he said, glancing at him again. He shook his head, frowning. "I love you Six. I love my nephews and even my damn brother. I love Mindy and Tyra and my Becky." Who the hell was Becky, Jason wondered, but Tim kept going. "They're family and I love them. Garrity is different. She's always been different."

I know. The only girl to get through to you. Jason took a deep breath. "You need to go after her Timmy."

"She's not going to come. She's going to stay somewhere else."

"Then let her go." He looked sideways again, his voice quiet. "Timmy just let her go. It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt bad but if your other option is living in pain and missing her and trying to forget her…that's not worth it. You did it once before. Do it again."

He swallowed hard, whispering. "I let her go but she came back." He glanced down at him, smiling slightly. "You brought her back."

I didn't do that for the reasons you might think. I did it for both of us. Jason pushed his arms up so he was almost like a seal on the board, looking at the beach. He felt like they were getting tossed around a bit more. He looked behind him, smiling as a wave approached. It looked like a good one. "Then see if she comes back again," he said. He frowned. "There's some saying. Erin has it on a magnet in her office. If you love something let it go. If it comes back, it's yours. If it doesn't, it never was. Just see if she comes back Timmy. If she doesn't…well, then that's all it is."

They were officially done, he thought, looking back and smiling as the wave pushed at him. Tim let go of the safety cord, smiling as the felt the wave pushing the board. He lifted himself up at his waist and felt the wave push him to the shore and flipped off when he reached the shallow water. His eyes closed and he felt his back hit the soft sand. He lifted his head, surfacing for air and let the waves push him into shore.

A few minutes later, he was sitting in the wet sand, the surf washing over his legs. The surfboard sat beside him and a few minutes later, Lyla came down to sit with him. She passed him a cup of coffee. "Eggs are still warm on the stove when you're ready."

"In a minute."

They continued to watch Tim, like they had the day before. She smiled a little, her voice quiet. "I found the pills in the bathroom. He'd flushed them." She glanced sideways, whispering. "He kept the ones…the focusing ones. I think he still needs those. At least for now."

"That your professional opinion?"

"It's just my opinion."

Jason sipped the coffee. He took a deep breath and knew that this was going to hurt her, but it had to be said. He looked back out at Tim, his voice even and quiet. "I know this weekend is about us. I want all of us together again, but Lyla if I have to choose…it's always going to be him." He didn't look at her, because he knew that she would understand.

They said nothing; there wasn't anything they could say. He looked up when Tim came out of the water. "I'm starving," he announced, looking down at them both. "What's for breakfast?"

"Huevos Rancheros," Lyla said, looking up and smiling. She rolled her eyes when he opened his mouth. "You have your own, don't worry, no peppers. Just onions, tomato, and I know you don't like the Monterey jack cheese, so I put Kraft singles slices in yours."

"Ew," Jason commented.

"Yum," Tim said. He picked up the second surfboard, carrying them to the porch while Lyla helped him up and into his chair, pushing him towards the house.

One last day, he thought, sitting at the table, barely touching his food while Lyla and Tim ignored reality; they were living in their fantasyland right now. We all have our defense mechanisms, he thought, reaching for his cup of coffee while Lyla snatched toast from Tim's plate and he scraped fruit from hers. They'd go back to reality when Lyla left tomorrow.

Until now, he'd live in the fantasyland too. It was Mexico after all.


	11. I'll Love You Forever

**A/N:  **Thanks for the reviews :) There are only two more chapters left. I'm ending it with Jason, just like it started with him. Enjoy!

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**11. I'll Love You Forever**

What did you do, Lyla wondered, wiping her hand down her cheek and studying her sunken-eyed expression in the bathroom mirror. She pursed her lips and then reached up to push at her eyebrow. I'm twenty-eight, she thought, wiping at her face again. I look like I'm well into my forties. Geez. Stress was a killer. This whole weekend had been stress. But damn last night…maybe Jason was right. Maybe all she needed was to get laid. Except it wasn't crude like that. It was very different. She didn't know if Tim felt the same way, but it seemed to go on forever, just both of them. "What am I doing?" she moaned, digging her fingernails into her cheeks. She sighed, dropping her hands to the sink. "Oh God." Her head fell forward, hitting the mirror.

I'm an idiot. A total idiot. I came into this thing without even knowing he would be here, warning Jason not to bring him, and now look what's happened. I promised myself I wouldn't care about him. I wouldn't help him. And above all, I wouldn't sleep with him. Then he came into her room last night with his sad puppy dog eyes and he told her that he'd gone to jail so his brother could have his son and that son wouldn't have bad thoughts about his dad. Good God, she thought, shaking her head. I'm a sucker. Total sucker. She fell for it all and before she knew it, she was grabbing him and pulling him into her bed.

Whenever she thought she'd truly given up on him. For whatever reason, when she'd finally made up her mind, he'd go and do something stupid like that to remind her that he was probably one of the better men she'd ever met in her life. That he was kind and sweet and that things like his family were more important to him than his future. Stupid, stupid, she thought, knocking her forehead into the mirror again. "You're predictable Lyla Garrity," she mumbled, lifting her eyes up to meet her reflection. It mocked her. She sighed, whispering. "You're predictable."

Now what were they going to do? Tomorrow she was on a plane back to Nashville. Tim would drive back to Texas. Jason would return to New York. They would go back to their lives with hugs, kisses, and promises to stay in touch. She knew how these things worked. Maybe she'd talk to him when she went to visit her dad. Maybe. They couldn't do that though; that wasn't them, they couldn't do that whole friends with benefits things.

I have to cut him loose forever, she thought, pushing away from the sink. She sighed hard, closing her eyes and dropped her hand to her stomach. "Fuck," she cursed. How old was she again? Twenty-eight? She was more responsible as a damn teenager having an affair with her boyfriend's best friend. "I can't believe I forgot," she mumbled.

"Garrity!"

Lyla jumped, staring at the closed door. "What?" she shouted.

"I have to pee!"

"There's like 100 other bathrooms in this house, go find one!" She ignored him knocking on her door again. I have bigger problems. I have to figure out how I'm going to be able to leave him. Even if a piece of her didn't. They were just…we're good together, she thought, frowning slightly and lifting her eyes up to the woman staring back at her in the mirror.

She brought out the good in him, she forced him to be the best version of himself he could be and he lightened up her life. Made her less serious. More accepting of herself. She'd let him go; set him free, whatever the hell you wanted to call it, and she was happy for it. I love my life, she thought. My…my life…her lonely little life in Nashville. Sure, she had friends, but she worked all the time. She loved her work. All the adrenaline. The help she gave people. She connected with them when they most needed it.

It had the best of both words for her. Taking care of people, but at the same time, when she wanted that rush and that movement, she got it. Drama, that's what Jason said she needed. Hell, maybe he was right. Maybe that's why she'd been so attracted to Tim. "I can't live on that," she whispered to herself. You couldn't live as a drama junkie.

She picked up one of the pill bottles that she'd found in the trash. Tim had kept his Buspar. That was one she knew he wouldn't be able to give up, because you did go through a slight withdrawal. He had to ease himself off that, but he really might need that to focus. It removed distractions that he allowed himself to have. But the others? The nightmare pills and even his Vicodin and his Ambien…good for you, she thought. She hoped that meant he was willing to confront why he had the nightmares and not just numb them.

Lyla dropped the bottles back into the trash after peeling off the labels. Didn't he know anything about how people stole prescriptions these days? She washed her hands and face, walking out of the bathroom. She went into her bedroom and changed from her shorts and t-shirt into a pair of cargo capris, a loose white tank top and a pair of hiking sandals. She left her hair down, which she hadn't really been doing lately, too used to having it in a braid or a bun while she was working.

She dropped her fedora onto her head and picked up her new bag, leaving her bedroom and went out into the living room. "There are some Mayan ruins about an hour or so away from here," she announced. "I thought we might go."

"Not on the last day," Jason said. He looked up from the couch. "Let's just do nothing."

"Not the last day," she retorted back to him. She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well then I guess I'll go by myself."

"Not in Mexico," Tim and Jason said at the same time.

And I need both of you two to protect me? She arched an eyebrow. "What are you guys going to do if someone comes after me? You're in a wheelchair…" She pointed to Jason and then to Tim. "And you're probably already on beer number two."

"Number one," Tim corrected, sipping the bottle he removed from between the couch cushions. He smiled up at her, his eyebrow lifting. "Stay with us Garrity. We're going to surf."

When did Tim become a surfer dude? He always did seem like one, but she never thought that in land-locked Dillon that he'd actually act upon it. "I'm not surfing. Come on! Just for a few hours, we still have the entire day!" I can't believe I'm whining. I need to get my mind off of this whole situation. Driving into the jungle and looking at some ruins would be enough for her. She reached and tied her hair back at the base of her neck in a ponytail. "Come on! Someone come with me!"

"Fine," they both said at the same time. When did they start doing that, she wondered, frowning a little. She smiled, pleased with herself when they got up, grumbling. Jason hoisted himself into a chair and scowled. "Guess I'll have to put on jeans or something. I don't feel like getting eaten alive by mosquitos."

"I'm not learning anything," Tim announced. He pulled his hat down over his brow, scowling at her. "You're not going to test me or anything."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring them while they looked for food to bring on the hour-long trip and snatched Tim's truck keys. I'm driving. She went out to the truck, tossing her bag on the passenger side floor. After a few minutes, the boys joined her, but Tim wouldn't get in the truck. "I'm not drunk, you're not driving," he said, hiking his thumb over his shoulder. "Get out. My truck."

"No, I'm driving. Deal with it."

"This is my baby!"

"Get over it Riggins, let her drive," Jason piped up from beside her. He rolled his eyes, pulling himself over to sit beside her. "I'll sit in the middle to keep you two from killing each other."

"I'm not going to kill him," Lyla said, backing out of the driveway. She hit her foot on the clutch, looking down at it and frowning. "Huh." I forgot that this was a stick. Damn. She glanced at Tim, who was glaring at her. "I'll be fine!" It took a few minutes before she had it figured out, lurching up and down the street before she finally turned onto the road that she'd checked on her phone earlier, that would take them to the ruins.

They all drove in silence, the windows open since the truck didn't have air conditioning. She flicked on the radio, but nothing happened. "Doesn't work," Tim announced.

"When did it ever work?"

"Seventh grade."

"If this truck could talk," Jason commented, patting his hand on the dashboard. He laughed, looking over at Lyla. "Remember when we had to drive this thing to the hospital because Tim fell off of it and got a concussion?"

"Broke his wrist too, if I remember right."

"I don't remember that," Tim said.

"You don't remember much from that evening," Lyla said. If she remembered right, that was the summer before Jason's injury. Everything was perfect. They'd been out at the lake, the three of them, partying and then Tim had decided to climb a tree, dropping onto the truck, and then slipped off the roof. They'd had to figure out quickly how to drive a stick because Tim was out completely and she had been freaking out because his wrist was sideways. She smiled a little, glancing sideways to the both of them, her voice soft. "Do you remember when we met?"

This might get things a little weird. Jason smiled, nodding. "Yeah," he said, his voice quiet. He leaned his head against the back window, closing his eyes. "You were in that little cheer uniform. Seventh grade, if I remember right. I'd just moved. Coach Taylor was introducing me to the new coach. I was in varsity already."

On the other side of Jason, Tim looked up from where he'd been resting his head on the doorframe, looking out the open window. He frowned a little. "What little cheer uniform?"

"I still have it actually," she laughed. There was no way she still fit into that thing. Most of her stuff she'd trashed but her dad had found a bunch of stuff in storage, including her junior varsity cheer uniform. She shook her head, smiling. She did remember. The girls had been making fun of her a little behind her back, saying she was going to lose her virginity to Tim, because the two of them were friends. Not very close, they'd lost touch from the transition from elementary school to junior high. She shook her head, her voice quiet again. "You looked so…perfect in your little uniform. I dropped my pom-poms when you walked by and you picked them up and you said…"

"Don't lose these ma'am, you might need them on Friday," Jason finished, laughing. He poked Tim. "And then you seemed to forget, during practice that day, that as offense, you don't hit your own quarterback!"

"Did some time on the bench for that one," Tim drawled. He shrugged a little, looking over at her and keeping his voice down; slightly reflective. "Been friends since."

"No one had ever hit me that hard. Well, not until that guy broke my neck."

And there's the end of the conversation, Lyla thought, running his tongue over her teeth. She took a deep breath, reaching to push her sunglasses farther up her nose. "So I've been reading about some studies…there are some really good treatments using stem cells. I can get you the name of someone…"

"I'm good Lyla."

"Fine." She'd still pass them along to him. In case he wanted them. You never knew. There was so much progress in the field of spinal cord injuries that she'd almost decided the field of neurosurgery, specializing in spinal cords, because of it. She sometimes wondered if part of her decision to go to medical school was because…well because she'd wanted nothing more than to sew Jason's spine back together herself when it had happened. Someone she loved needed it and she wanted to help, but she couldn't. Now she could, if she needed to do it, she would at least be able to help.

She wished the damn radio worked; it was just too quiet in the cab of the truck. Lyla leaned back in the seat, which was worn and settled from all the years of Tim driving in it. The few times she'd drive this truck was because Tim had been too drunk or was injured. Too many times. She reached down into the pocket along the driver's side door, removing a piece of paper. It was a car registration. For a brand new Chevy Silverado. Navy blue. She frowned. "You have another truck?"

He reached over, snatching the registration from her. "Gimme that."

"I wanna' see," Jason said, trying to grab the paper, but Tim held it out of reach. He leaned forward, shoving the paper into the glove compartment and then slammed the door shut. "Why didn't you bring your new truck?"

"Because it's new."

"You can afford a new truck?"

"I have a five-hundred buck a month car payment, they gave me the loan, so yes, I can afford a new truck," Tim grumbled. He seemed embarrassed at something as normal as having a car payment or getting a loan. He shook his head, mumbling. "That with mortgage and shit, things are expensive."

But you have a job, Lyla thought, smiling. She cleared her throat. "Well you guys talk about trucks. I'm going to check the map. Or maybe, Jason get my phone, check and make sure we're going the right way, it should just be up this highway."

About an hour later they pulled to a stop in front of the ruins. She hopped out of the cab of the truck, shoving the keys into Tim's hands. This was going to be fun, she thought, removing her phone and taking a few photos of the ruins and the jungle. There was a really pretty butterfly and she found herself taking a picture of that too. She turned still holding up her phone and smiled, snapping a shot of Tim swatting a mosquito out of his face. It looked like he was having a fit.

He dropped his hand, glowering at her. "Did you just take a picture of me?"

"No." She took another, to piss him off. Tim hated having his photo taken. Meanwhile, it was one of her…things, she supposed. She loved photos. Whereas Tim had 'memories' that were experiences and things stored in his head, she had actual photo documentation. The bulletin board in her room growing up was constantly changing because of it. Just nothing but pictures, mostly of her and Jason, but there were a few of her and Tim too. She took a picture of Jason, who ahd just wheeled into the frame.

"Hey, no photos. I should have said that at the beginning of this trip," he scowled.

Whatever. She went to the ruins, walking around and listening to a guide for a few minutes before she started to climb. There were several steps built into the temple and she moved up them rather quickly, using her hands when she got to the top, finally standing up slowly. She turned around and scanned the horizon. It was beautiful. Very high, but beautiful. She could see over the tops of the jungle and to the distance, where she thought she saw the ocean, but that was unlikely. It was probably just a glare from the sunlight.

I want to scream, she thought, looking down at the ground. She frowned a little; Jason was sitting down in his chair, holding his arms up. She realized a second later that it was his phone. She waved, but he probably couldn't see. "Are you going to jump or something?"

Lyla jumped in place, startled at the voice behind her. She turned, seeing Tim rising to his feet from the top of the staircase. She scowled. "You could have made me fall."

"Doubtful." He came to stand beside her, waving down at Jason. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to his chest; what the hell are you doing, she thought, her heart beginning to thud loud in her chest. Her palms began to sweat and she tensed slightly, but he didn't let go. He dropped his lips to her ear. "You're leaving tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Okay."

That's all, she thought, lifting her eyes up to him. He was looking out at the horizon, same as she had been a moment before. She rose on her toes, her mind working slowly as her body moved faster than it; she kissed him lightly and he frowned a little. It's not a trick, she thought, wrapping her arms tighter around him and pressing her lips harder against his. He finally gave in and pulled her against him. We're going to fall off, she thought, finally breaking the kiss a moment later. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. "Please don't screw up your life," she whispered, her eyes on his. She arched an eyebrow. "You have a real life now. Don't mess it up. I just wanted you to know that. To…to work on your…your problems. You've already taken a big step. Please keep working. Don't screw it up….I'm…I know you don't care, but…but I'm proud of you. You're…you're amazing and...and you're good." Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath. Don't cry Garrity. Just don't. "Before I leave tomorrow I wanted you to know. You're a good person. You're a good guy and I've always believed that. More than anyone in the world I've believed it." She wouldn't look at him; she refused. If she did, she'd probably break down. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I've loved you since…since always. I don't think there's a date where I didn't…whether I knew it or not and…and that's all. That's all I wanted to say."

I don't know why. I just felt like you should know. I'm in love with you and damnit I wasn't for awhile there. It wasn't enough for me to give up my dreams. It wasn't supposed to be like that. She took a deep breath, looking at him, despite the fact that she told herself she wouldn't. He was staring at her; he was so good at hiding his emotions. Years of practice. "I didn't love you…I mean…" She took a deep breath, gesturing with her hands. "I mean I did…but I didn't. It wasn't enough and…and I didn't think of you." I was so proud of that when I got here. That I didn't think of you. She looked up at him again, shrugging and smiling. Resigning herself that this would be their last talk. She wasn't going to do it tomorrow. It was better today. "I think that's why this hurts so much Tim. Because it's real and…and I'm just…" She sighed, shaking her head again. "I'm just tired. I'm tired and when we see each other again, because I'm sure we will, I want it out in the open. So anyway…there you have it."

She let go of him and broke away, climbing down the stairs and landing in the soft grass at the base of the ruins. A few minutes later she was taking pictures of him and Jason, smiling and laughing like the two of them hadn't had one of the most one-sided conversations in history on top of the ruins. Ironic, she thought, snapping a selfie of the three of them in front of the rocks. Ruins were somehow still standing after over 100 years. Yet there they were, on top of them, falling apart.

They played the rest of the day, hanging out at the ruins, driving through some local villages, and ultimately ending up back at the house in the early evening. She changed into a maxi dress and went barefoot, wandering around until she foundt he boys cooking on the grill. Last night, she thought, picking up a bottle of beer from the chest. Hard to believe it had only been three days. It went so quickly.

She laughed with them both, talked about work, and heard stories about Noah. It seemed like Jason really missed him and was looking forward to seeing him again. After much coaxing, she got Tim to tell a few stories about his nephews, but he didn't seem to want to talk about his family. She heard a couple stories about his 'little sister' as he called her, Becky. The same Becky that totally had a crush on you and was insanely jealous of me, she wondered; it sounded like it, but Tim didn't elaborate.

They ended up back on the beach, until the fire burned out and she went to bed, leaving both of them to talk. A few hours later, she rolled over in bed and saw Tim leaning in her doorway. She took a deep breath, rubbing at her eyes and swallowing a couple of times, her throat dry. "You coming or going?" she whispered.

"What do you want?"

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I have an early flight tomorrow Tim."

"I asked you, what do you want Garrity?"

Why are we doing this now, she wondered. She dropped her hand from her face, staring at the ceiling; there was a skylight above her bed. The moon was really full that evening. It was like a giant nightlight. "I want to go to sleep," she whispered, turning her face to him. He seemed hurt. Damnit. She took a deep breath, gesturing him for him to come towards her. A few minutes later, he sat at the edge of her bed. She sat up and smiled a little, keeping her eyes closed. "I want…" She finally opened her eyes and shook her head at him. "I want this to be easy."

"It's not."

"I want this to be a high-school thing. A flash in the pan and we meet each other in ten years at the reunion and shake hands and meet each other's spouses and it's warm and nice and friendly." She sighed, tears pricking her eyes again. "And hell Tim, I want to be able to walk away and not have to recover. Not have to literally recover like my heart has been ripped out of my chest."

"Me too."

Then why the hell can't we just do that? I wish it were so easy like that. "You're not supposed to meet your soulmate when you're…what?" She laughed, shaking her right hand through her hair and dropping it to her lap, folding it around her left fingers. She looked up at him, her forehead wrinkled, but she was still smiling. "I love you, I told you that. I'm not going to talk about this anymore because I'm tired and I have to fly out tomorrow. I mean…this is just Mexico."

"It is not just Mexico," he said. His voice was hard. He scowled. "It's always, Garrity. It's how many years of nothing and then we see each other again and it's like those ten years never happened and I want an answer. What the fuck do you want in your life?"

I don't know, she wanted to scream. I have what I worked for and I'm still not happy. Something is missing and I don't know what it is. I don't want to know, I just want to go back to work and do what I know how to do. "Tim…"

"I'm not going to give up without an answer to that," Tim said. He shook his head, whispering. "I am not coming to Nashville. I have a life. I worked hard for it and it's mine and it's my house and everything and I'm not coming there. So this is on you Lyla Garrity."

"Why is it always me?" she whispered, lifting her eyes to him. She shrugged. "It's always my choice."

"Because I'm not the one who…" He sighed, shrugging and looking down at their hands, which were somehow entwined together. He dropped his forehead to hers, whispering. "Because I'm not the one who has a real future, Lyla. That's not me and it never was. Come back to me. I'm only saying it one and then you never have to hear it again."

Come back to me. That's always the way it was. He'd fight for a bit and then he'd go his way and live his life and do his thing and leave it to be her choice. She closed her eyes and gripped at his wrist when he moved to stand up. "Stay. Just one night." She swallowed hard, pulling him back to her, whispering against his lips. "Just stay."

So he stayed, until she woke up in the morning and he was gone. She cleaned up, gathered her things, and said goodbye to Jason when a cab showed up to take her to the airport. He was gone; the truck was still in the driveway, but she didn't know where he was. Jason didn't know either. He hugged her, kissed her, and said goodbye. Said he loved her and that she'd need to visit New York. When she said she would, she meant it. She pulled away from him and climbed into the cab, looking out the window, her heart thudding and staring at the house as it disappeared.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she wished he'd run out of the bushes or something; chase down her cab. Make it like a romantic comedy movie ending here everyone lived happily ever after. Too bad life isn't a movie, she thought, turning around in her seat and reaching to turn her phone on. She had a dozen messages.

Vacation time was over; she had to return to life and Tim Riggins, sadly, just wasn't in it. She'd have to fight through the pain again, but she'd done that once before and hell, things got easier over time.


	12. Soulmates Forever

**A/N:  **Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm going to flip something up and add an extra chapter, I felt like it needed it. It's going to Lyla's POV one more time before Jason's. Anyways, enjoy :)

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**12. Soulmates Forever**

"Don't do anything that ends you back in jail again."

Tim smiled, standing outside of his truck. It was really early; he hated waking up early, but he wanted to at least be back in Dillon this time the next morning; which meant a straight shot driving for about fourteen hours. He didn't want to prolong this, so he reached his fist towards Jason. "See you Six."

"See you Riggins," Jason said, his voice soft. He smiled, bumping his fist to Tim's. "Texas Forever."

Texas Forever. He smiled, but it was slightly shadowed. This had been a decent few days in Mexico. Blew off some steam. Had a couple of emotional breakdowns. Or breakthroughs. He took a deep breath, swallowing back the emotion. "Texas Forever." He opened up the door and climbed up into the front seat, smiling down at Jason. "You know…next time you want a reunion, let's try my place."

"No ocean. How are we going to surf?"

"Aw, yeah forgot about that," he said, chuckling. He shoved his sunglasses on and turned the engine over. "Later Six."

"Later Riggins and hey…" he called out, turning his chair around and wheeling towards the path back up to the house. He turned quickly, shouting over the sound of diesel engine rumbling as it warmed up. He gestured his arms out, laughing. "The three of us…we'll rise up, remember?"

Yeah. Yeah I remember. "We did," he called back. He smiled; wide. He'd had a decent night's sleep last night for the first time in a decade. He hadn't woken up screaming. No suffocation. The only thing he remembered from it was he wished that there was someone else with him in bed, like there had been during the dream. He lifted his hand up, silently waving to Jason, who watched as he backed the truck out of the drive and through the gates.

He turned the wheel hard, driving away. It was going to be a long drive back, he thought, taking a deep breath and leaned back; he might as well get comfortable. He kept driving, practically blanking out. When he got to the border, he answered the questions honestly and there was no bribing this time; wasn't like he had anything with him that would get him in trouble, even though Mindy wanted him to pick up some Xanax for her. He only thought she was half-serious about that.

He drove and drove, passing McAllen and kept going to San Antonio. Making good time too; he barely went below 100 on the route to San Antonio. It wasn't until he got there did he stop for something to eat; just a quick grab and then he was back on the road. Instead, he found himself in a coffee shop, getting a redeye.

When he left, he stopped outside the door, looking up at the sign that hung over the overpass on the other side of the street in front of the coffee shop. I-35 North, he thought, running his tongue over his teeth. He glanced to another sign, beside that one. Or I-10 West. One would take him to the various state highways that would lead him, meandering through the West Texas plains and oilfields up to Dillon and to his three-bedroom, two-bathroom, 3,200 square foot house with a big kitchen and a fireplace.

Or I could go on I-35 North to Dallas. Hitch onto I-30 East. Son of a bitch, he thought, closing his eyes. He took a long gulp of his redeye. The combination of dark roast and espresso hit him hard; he didn't drink coffee but he needed this. He shuddered. It was quite literally a shock to his system. He walked to his truck and got inside, closing his eyes. Which one do you want to take Riggins? The right or the left? He started the truck and turned, merging into the road. He had a choice. Go right or left. At the last minute, he jerked his steering wheel, ignoring the honking horns of cars as he cut across three lanes of traffic to merge onto the highway. Shit, he thought, closing his eyes briefly. He shook his head and hit the accelerator, moving as quickly past the exits as he could before he changed his mind. It isn't your time, he thought, seeing the sign to merge towards the state highway in several miles. He took a deep breath, glancing in his rearview mirror seeing the backwards reflection of a sign for Dallas. It's not my time, he thought. It's hers. This is on her.

He pulled into Dillon late the next evening, after having stopped for beer. He climbed out of his truck and saw the lights were on in his house. "Damnit Becky," he mumbled, slowly trudging up to the front porch, where sure enough, Becky was sitting on the porch swing, her legs crossed and a bottle of beer loose in her fingers. He sighed, setting his six-pack on the table beside the porch swing and took one out, cracking the cap before reclining back beside her.

His head dropped lightly to her shoulder and she tapped her bottle of beer against his. He sipped for a few minutes, silently rocking back and forth in the porch swing, his heel dragging on the already worn porch planks. Becky sighed hard, clearing her throat. Just say it, he thought, closing his eyes. You know you want to. "So you're back. Alone."

"Alone." Forever alone, he'd rather be that than get with someone just because he was lonely. He wanted the right one. The house was supposed to have one of two people in it. Or both. Neither of them were here so…so it wasn't complete until they were. He sighed, opening his eyes and whispering. "I got you a sombrero."

"I wanted one of those fat little mariachi guys, the little knick-knack!"

"Well deal with your hat, I couldn't find those little fat guy things." He didn't even know what she was talking about. He sipped his beer again. There was no way he'd admit it, but he was glad that she was here. He really didn't want to come back to an empty house.

"Lyla's gone."

"Lyla's gone," he confirmed, whispering. He closed his eyes. It didn't hurt; it was just fact. He'd given her the ultimatum. She wanted them, she came to him. He'd done too much, it was on her now. He'd let her go, he'd hurt a lot, and it was because of her. So this was her turn to decide what she wanted out of life, not him. Call it unfair, he didn't care. He took a deep breath, his voice soft. "She's got a life."

"You know," Becky drawled, setting her bottle down on the ground. She touched her head to his and drew her knees up, folding her hands in her lap. Her diamond engagement ring sparkled in the dim light coming from the porch lamps on either side of his front door. She reached over and took his hand, lightly stroking his fingers. Her eyes darted towards his. "I think I change my mind."

He sighed; what was she going to talk about now? He shook his head, whispering. "What?" He squeezed her hand, looking up. "What'd you change? The bridesmaids' dresses? Good, they're ugly."

"Hey! You said you liked them!"

"They're orange!"

"Sherbet!"

"Whatever, they look like something you drink when you're sick." He took a long pull of beer while she silently fumed. Good, that shut her up for a few minutes. Although he knew she'd get back to the topic at hand in a moment.

Sure enough, she poked his thigh, her finger digging in a little harder than necessary. "I'm saying that I change my mind about soulmates. I think that there's actually one out there for everyone. There's one person who you just…you just click with you know? It might not make sense and…and you know it might not work out, but…but you know it's like wolves. I was watching this thing on Animal Planet with the boys the other day and they said that wolves mate for life, did you know that?"

He was tired, his back hurt, and she was talking about wild dogs. Good God. The people in my family, he thought, shaking his head. "Becky," he warned. Get to the point. I won't give you another chance.

"Okay, okay I get it, but look so wolves mate for life. They showed this wolf couple and the mom wolf died and the dad like howled and mourned for her. He didn't get with any other wolf and gave up being the alpha because he missed her," Becky said, patting his arm lightly. Her voice dropped. "And since I've been with Luke I realize that I don't think I could be with someone else if…if I lost him. I've thought about it, because he's overseas in a war but…I mean, I'd probably move on and find someone to be with, because you can't be alone forever, but the biggest piece of my heart…it'd be with him. He's the love of my life."

Are we back at this again, het hought, swallowing hard. It made him nervous. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "I'm…I'm fine Becks."

"You're not fine." Becky squeezed his wrist. "Was she the love of your life?"

Yes, he thought automatically. He closed his eyes and sighed, resting against her. He was just so tired. I want to go to bed. "Yeah," he murmured. He nodded and set the beer down, reclining back against her. "Yeah she was." I'm tired. He reached into his pocket and removed his phone, sending a text to Jason that he was back in Texas and he'd talk to him later. This time he was going to make an effort to stay in touch.

They got off the porch and went into the house. He went down the hall and into his room, crossing the mess and into the bathroom. He opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed an extra bottle of Ambien. Instead of taking one, like he desperately wanted, he dumped them into the toilet and flushed, throwing the bottle at his reflection in the mirror. Fuck this. He left the bathroom and stripped to his boxers, crawling beneath the sheets of his bed.

I'm tired, I just want to sleep, he thought, closing his eyes. He frowned when his phone rang. Seriously? He grabbed it and saw it was Six. "What?" he demanded.

"You okay? Need to talk?"

"No."

"Okay. Talk to you later."

"Bye." He hung up. Thank God for Six. He didn't push him. I just want to go to sleep and tomorrow wake up and start living my life. He took a deep breath, slightly nervous as he closed his eyes. Please no nightmares, he silently begged. He calmed himself, breathing deeply a few times before he dropped off into sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, he went to the kitchen, where Becky was making breakfast. "You only screamed once," she said, biting into a piece of bacon. She smiled. "That's something, huh?"

He smiled. "Yeah, hell I might be getting better." He took the mug of tea that she passed him, sipping. He spit it back into the cup. "Shit Becky this has honey!"

"You're weird, it's straight sugar, you once ate an entire Costco bag of Sour Patch Kids…"

Did anyone know another story about my eating habits, he wondered, dumping the mug into the sink and began to make himself a new cup. He pushed his fingers through his hair, leaning against the counter. He smiled slightly. It felt…better. Just being here. Even with Becky. He looked over his shoulder at her as she was smiling knowingly at him. He instantly scowled. "What?"

"Nothing. You seem better. I can't believe it was only like a week. Lyla and Jason must have…a big hold on you."

Yeah, that's a bit of an understatement, Tim thought. He nodded, smiling. "Yeah," he murmured. He looked out the large expanse of windows looking out onto his land. It's up to her, he thought, turning around and walking into the living room, grabbing the television remote. It was up to Lyla. Let's just see if she makes the right decision, he thought, reclining back in his chair. He had faith in her. Lyla wasn't stupid and besides, he figured. It was Mexico. Everything changed when they'd gone to Mexico the first time. No reason why it couldn't the second time.


	13. Texas Forever

**A/N:**Thanks for sticking with this story, all emotional craziness of it. I was going to do a Lyla chapter and then Jason's to end it, but her chapter just took away from the story so I went back to Jason's POV. There might be another story in Lyla's chapter, but we'll see. Enjoy and thanks :)

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**13. Texas Forever**

_One Year Later_

So it's finally happened, Jason thought, his hand sitting loosely in Erin's, both of them at a table as the newly married couple danced, rather silly, to Queen's "You're My Best Friend." He moved a little closer to her, brushing his lips over her ear. "You know," he murmured. "We never danced at our wedding."

"Our wedding was in a courthouse," Erin said, smiling. She shrugged. "I don't need a wedding." She sighed, squeezing his hand, her voice soft, and her green eyes darting back to him. "I want a marriage. I think we do that very well."

I think we do that very well too, he thought, lifting her knuckles to his lips and giving them a light kiss. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the stroller, where their daughter Rose slept peacefully. He moved his gaze from his daughter to his son, who was flirting shamelessly with Tyra Collette. Thank goodness Tyra just played along with the thirteen-year old, who thought he was quite suave. All she did was smile and keep her left hand covered, hiding her engagement ring from him, so as not to break his little heart.

Boy could use getting his heart broken at least once before he really fell in love and not just the puppy version, Jason thought, breaking his gaze from his family to the other family that were now swaying lightly in the sand on the makeshift dance area outside of the beachhouse where a year ago, almost to the day, those two idiots laid eyes on each other for the first time in almost a decade.

From what he'd been told, it was a whole other story how they finally came back together again. All he knew was that he'd landed in New York knowing that they would find each other again, but unsure how they'd go about doing it. Something happened, was all he knew because he showed up about two months after Mexico and Lyla opened Tim's front door. He thought he knew what it was, a couple months after that, when he'd gotten a text message from Riggins saying simply "We're pregnant." He'd been washing dishes at the time and had almost flooded his kitchen because he hadn't been able to tear his eyes from the text for about fifteen minutes.

It wasn't in Mexico, that's what the math told him. Must have happened right after they reunited. How that happened, all he'd been told was that it was "another story for another time."

They were here now, that's all that mattered to him. Back where it began, so to speak. Jason glanced at them again, his voice quiet. "They're happy," he murmured. They were happy, he could tell. I know them. They're my best friends.

Erin squeezed his hand. "They're very happy. I don't think I've ever seen Tim smile like this. Of course, I didn't think I'd ever see you smile as wide as you did when we had Rose." Little girls were something very special, Coach Taylor had told him, when they'd come to visit New York and had seen Rose for the first time, a few months ago. Jason thought in Tim's case his daughter was even more special. She'd been premature, she'd had to have surgery, and her first eight weeks of life were in a glass box in the hospital.

Now she was cradled in her father's arms as they danced with her mother, Lyla looking probably the most beautiful he'd ever seen her look, with a white crown of flowers around her head and a long, flowing white sleeveless dress. She was barefoot and had been the entire few days they were here in Mexico before the wedding actually took place. There was something very loose and free about her that he'd never seen before. There was always an intensity to Lyla, for as long as he'd known her, and even when she let loose, the few times he'd witnessed it, she still did so with some sort of…focus.

Not right now. Right now she was quite literally free, spinning in a circle one-handed as Tim held the baby against his chest with his other hand. Sitting on the porch railing, with the microphone and a guitar, Landry sang the song, playing a lovely acoustic version. He'd somehow become friends with Tim, because Jason didn't know that they spoke, but apparently he'd returned to Dillon and set up shop at Buddy's Bar playing songs, so he'd kind of latched on to Tim.

It was nice. Different. We're all different now, he thought, smiling as the song ended. He whooped with everyone else, laughing as Lyla seemingly flushed, bouncing off the sandy space and over to him, leaning down and kissing him lightly. "Dance with me," she said.

"I'm in a wheelchair, kind of difficult."

"Dance with me," she giggled, pulling at his wheels as Landry started playing one of his original songs, a rather upbeat number. She spun in a circle as he laughed, other people getting up and dancing. She leaned in and kissedhi m again, her eyes darting over his shoulder. "Your wife hates me."

"She doesn't trust you."

"She trusts you, so what does it matter?"

"Well it matters to me," Jason said, grinning at her. He looked over at Tim, nodding to him. "He hasn't let her go."

"He doesn't let her go," Lyla said. She smiled down at him and turned, pushing his chair through the sand and away from the gathering down the beach. There was a little area already set up, near a fire pit. It was pretty far from the group, now that he thought about it, looking over his shoulder and seeing everyone laughing down the beach. He frowned a little, looking over at her. She shrugged, reaching beneath a rock around the edge of the fire pit. "I wanted to be alone. We haven't had a chance to just be alone."

No. They hadn't. He'd arrived a few days ago and it had just been movement since. There was his family to worry about and hers. There were the babies and Noah and everyone coming in and staying at the giant beachhouse. It was more people than she'd wanted, but it had kind of just piled up. They had a lot of people that wanted to witness the wedding of Tim and Lyla. Which they had. Which he'd performed. They were officially married a couple of weeks ago, in a courthouse in Dillon, but this was the ceremony and it seemed…well he wanted to do it. So he'd been the one who had them say their vows and spoke about how he'd known them forever. They were his best friends and all hew anted was them to be happy.

All I ever wanted was for us to be happy. To be friends again. "How's Tim doing?" he asked, now that he had her alone. She had the fire going, her hands resting on some of the rocks around the logs that were starting catching flame.

"He's good," she answered. She waited a moment and looked up, smiling. It met her eyes, which crinkled in the corners. "He's great Jason. You and I both know the boy we loved from high school is still inside of him. It's more visible now than it ever was these past ten years."

And that's kind of what I figured, he thought, smiling back at her. "And how is he…adjusting?"

"It was tough going," she answered; I'm glad you're answering truthfully. Jason had gone to the hospital after he'd heard Lyla had gone into labor early. He was in Dallas signing a new client and hopped the first plane he could get. He'd been worried in the beginning that Tim would freak out over the prospect of having a kid. If he feared being a bad influence and 'ruining' his life or Lyla's life before, hell only knew what he thought about having a child with his DNA.

To his surprise, Tim had been relatively stable. It wasn't until he got him alone, out of Lyla's bedroom where she recovered and away from their daughter, who was sleeping in a box, with a tube in her nose and wires and cords going everywhere, did he finally break down. That had been about two months ago. "Tough going?" he echoed; he didn't know about anything other than Tim's breakdown in the hospital and about twenty minutes after that, Tim was back to his usual self, scowling and acting like nothing was the matter.

She shrugged, moving away from the fire and drawing her knees to her chest. "Well you know he's…" She shrugged, smiling sadly across the flames. "He's Tim, Jason. He fears that he's…spread something to her sometimes. I think he wakes up now and then and wonders if he's allowed to have something good. Something pure. He gets…moody. Tries to push me away, he's Tim, Jason. I know what I'm involved in and believe me, I'd rather be involved in it than away from it, because it sucked."

How did you guys get back together, he wondered, frowning a little. He narrowed his eyes, whispering. "What made you go back to him?" He shrugged. "Seemed the last time we were here, you guys…you guys just left. It was so sad, Lyla. It was just sad."

"It was sad," she agreed. She shrugged, looking down at her wedding ring and turning it around on her left ring finger knuckle. Her voice seemed faraway. "It was very sad when…when I showed up I just…" She looked over at him again, whispering. "I just realized one morning that I didn't want to have regrets and…and that I could do everything I did in Nashville but in Dillon. I wanted him more, but…but not at the expense of myself and…" She shrugged. "And it wasn't at the expense of myself. It was my decision."

He frowned a little. "Tim shouldn't have made it your decision."

"No, that wasn't right of him to give me an ultimatum, but…but I think he knew that it wasn't the fact that we didn't love each other that was our problem," she whispered. She smirked. "We just couldn't be in the same place at the same time and then…then one morning we were. Life works mysteriously. Just like how…" She shrugged again. "We skipped protection in Mexico. I thought for sure I was pregnant and when I wasn't…I was kind of disappointed. Then we get back together and four weeks later I'm in a doctor's office and she's telling me I'm knocked up!" she laughed. She shrugged, grinning wide. "Life works mysteriously."

He knocked on his knees, not feeling a thing. "Tell me about it," he said, smiling. He smirked at her. "And I have two kids. One that wasn't planned and shouldn't exist and another that cost us about $20,000 to create in a lab."

"And you love them and you'd never give them up for anything," she whispered.

"No way in hell."

"And that kid that shouldn't exist brought you to your wife. Whom you love desperately and forever and all that sappy romantic way," Lyla said, smiling. She shrugged. "It's lovely Jason. You guys."

Yeah. Yeah, lovely he supposed was a good way to describe it. They'd been married about ten years and it seemed like about twenty, but every day was…it wasn't boring, that was for sure. He shrugged, whispering. "It isn't that all consuming thing like you and Tim."

"Which is exhausting," Lyla said. She looked at her hands again. "And while it's nice to have that love you dream of when you're a little girl…as an adult it sometimes gets really old." She quirked her lip again. "I'm lucky that he's my best friend."

"What about me?"

"And you too," she giggled. She looked up at the sound of the sand moving near them. "Hello Husband."

"Hello Wife." Tim joined them, holding the baby. He settled down in the sand opposite Lyla, beside the wheelchair and cradled the baby carefully against him, being gentle and making sure that no sand got between her and the folds of her white lace blanket. "What are we talking about here?"

Jason wanted to change the subject to something lighter, so he nodded to the baby. "Why you named her Moon."

"It's Luna," Tim said defensively.

"And it's why I will never be passed out after having a baby again," Lyla said.

"I still can't believe you just named her without telling Lyla."

"Well they needed a name and I liked that name."

"I told you I liked the name Millicent, we could call her Millie," Lyla said, frowning a little as Tim moved the baby bag from his shoulder around to rest in front of his bare feet. She cocked her head slightly. "Although Luna does fit her…what's in the bag, you didn't have to bring it all the way out here?"

Jason rolled his eyes as Tim grinned, letting out a happy sigh as he removed a bottle of beer from the baby bag. "Seriously? You better have brought another for us."

"Well there is a bottle cooler in it too."

"That's for milk," Lyla chastised. She took the beer bottle from him, holding it out. "This isn't O'Douls. I can't drink this."

"Just pump and dump later. One beer won't kill you."

I don't ever want to hear those words again, he thought, shaking his head slightly and shuddering. It seemed to work on Lyla, who cracked the cap on her beer and took a long sip. She gestured towards him with the neck, smirking. "We should start coming down here every year on our anniversary."

"When's that?"

"Today you moron."

"We have like twenty anniversaries you make me celebrate," Tim retorted. He peered down at Luna, who was fussing a bit. He clucked his tongue, settling farther back against the log, sinking into the sand and digging his feet beneath it. "Shh," he whispered. "You're fine."

Well that could go for more than just her, Jason thought, glancing across the fire at Lyla. She was smiling across at him. He took a deep breath, looking up at the stars. "You think people are going to miss us," he mumbled. He knew Erin would let him take his time, wherever he'd wandered off, but with the newly married couple being missing it was sure to invite some scrutiny. Although everyone up by the house knew who the newly married couple was so maybe they wouldn't be shocked to find they'd run off together to be alone.

"No," Tim said. He moved Luna over to Lyla, who took her carefully and stretched her over her chest, lightly drifting her knuckles over the infant's back. One year ago, Jason thought, shaking his head slightly. Damn. It seemed like that's where Tim's mind was going too. "We were here a year ago, right?"

Lyla sighed, closing her eyes and murmuring. "Yeah." She opened one eye, looking at Tim. "We should do this every year."

Just you guys, or is the third wheel, no pun intended, allowed to come, he thought, smiling slightly when Riggins nodded towards him. "Street's coming too."

"Well of course."

Yeah, we're not going to break up again, he thought, pushing himself up from his chair. He slowly slid down and pushed it back, leaning on his elbows as his legs crumpled under him. He sat up, taking a few deep breaths. "That was fun." Now what am I doing, he wondered, his elbows starting to shake. He looked up and saw Tim reaching for his shoulders, tugging him through the sand to lean against the log. They both fell slightly against each other, laughing at the absurdity.

"You guys are already drunk?" Lyla chuckled, rolling her eyes at them. "Embarrassing."

"We'll get there soon enough," Jason said, his head knocking against Tim's. He sighed, looking at both of them and then to the fire. They'd come very far. One year. Damn. He looked back at them again, his voice soft. Make it count Street. "If we can't get to Mexico, we go to Tim's house. The ranch."

It dawned on Lyla first before Tim. "The hunting ranch stocked with ladies," she drawled. She lifted her eyebrow, her voice quiet. "Well Tim has two ladies already. I just don't think they were the ones you thought there Thirty-Three."

"They'll do," Tim whispered, smiling at her. He sighed, his gaze dropping to Luna. "She's perfect."

That's what you deserve, Jason thought. He folded his hands under his knees, his eyes closing. "And it was going to be our piece of Texas."

"It was always Tim's dream," Lyla said, her voice soft. She took a deep breath. "But it was all of ours. At least…you guys." She looked down at Luna, a flower from her crown falling to Luna's little hand. She took it and tucked it in the top of Luna's knit cap. She finally lifted her eyes back up, meeting theirs. "And now it's mine…Texas Forever."

I don't think I've ever heard you say that, he thought, frowning a little. He smiled at her; she was so relaxed, sitting in the sand with her daughter. Definitely not the person he'd known for so many years, but better. She was happy with everything. Settled in what she wanted. He glanced at Tim, reaching to bump his fist. "Texas Forever," he said, waiting.

Tim looked at Lyla and Luna and then up at the sky. He nodded, reaching over to bump his knuckles against Jason's. "Texas Forever."

**Fin**


End file.
